Chapter One

Ginger looked up in surprise at the sound coming from Sam's office. She stopped typing and peered around the monitor in front of her.

"For today in this arena," Sam sung as he stood up and placed the lid on his pen. "Summoned by a stern subpoena," he continued as he walked over to the bookcase and squeezed a file back into its space. "Edwin, sued by Angelina," Sam picked up a pile of scrunched up paper from his desk, "shortly," he threw one ball of paper into the bin, "will," another missile found its target, "appear."

"Hey! Domingo, will you come in here please!" Toby called from his office. From his tone, it was clear that Domingo wasn't a term of endearment.

Sam walked past Ginger and flashed a grin at her before adopting a more serious countenance for Toby's benefit, "You know, you should be grateful that your staff are happy in their work," Sam pointed out.

"I am grateful, I just don't want to have to listen to them expressing their joy in song." Toby took the papers that Sam held out to him. "It's finished?"

"It's definitely in the penultimate draft stage, maybe even the final draft stage." Sam sat on the sofa and waited for Toby to comment. The Colombian dinner, at which the President was to deliver a speech in front of President Miguel, the President of Colombia, was only days away and the section about how Bartlet was going to support him in his fight against the drug cartels had been one of the major headaches of the past few weeks.

"You've cracked it," Toby announced and handed the sheets back to Sam. "Good work," he added and looked back at the work on his desk. He didn't need to look up to know that Sam would be smiling.

Sam hadn't been back in his office long when Leo appeared at the door. "I saw you on Capital Beat this morning," he said as he walked over to Sam's desk.

"You watched it?" Sam asked surprised.

"Well, no, Margaret told me. The assistants have this necktie sweep-stake thing going on, so she watched it." Leo continued to speak while Sam looked down at his tie, a perplexed expression on his face. "When you go to the Colombian Embassy, make sure that you're clear that we are not going to get involved with the specifics of the drug cartels."

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"We're talking general, financial and military support. We're not going on a witch hunt of Colombia's most wanted."

"I hear you," Sam said.

"I don't want to see any names in that statement. How's it coming anyway?"

"It's good. We're nearly there now, I think." Sam had been working on the Statement of Aims with representatives from the Colombian government for the past month. The Colombian President had vowed to wage war on the drug cartels that were destroying the country and the Bartlet administration had vowed to help him. Meeting with the representatives had placed Sam in a high profile position. The Statement of Aims was to be published during a week of various meetings and events which would culminate at a State Dinner with the President reinforcing the government's intention to help President Miguel.

Today would be the last day that Sam would go to the embassy to work on the statement. The decision for the meetings to take place there had emphasized the role of the Colombian government in the process. Sam had been chosen primarily for his diplomatic and writing skills but the fact that he was a popular figure in the media and could speak fluent Spanish also helped.

"You've done well, Sam."

"Thanks, Leo. It must be Praise Sam Day today and I for one am enjoying it."

"Okay, well, that's nice for you," Leo said and headed into Toby's office.

As soon as he was gone Sam called for Ginger and Bonnie. They stood in front of his desk, he walked behind them, shut the door and then walked slowly back to his desk. "Neckties?"

Ginger and Bonnie exchanged glances before Ginger replied, "It's just that you…we noticed that you…you nearly always wear the same tie on Capital Beat."

Sam picked up the end of his tie and studied it. "Well, I don't."

"You do, Sam," Bonnie replied. "The first few times we thought it was coincidence but then, after the fifth time, we decided to keep a book."

"I've bet correctly every time you've worn the 'Beat Tie-" Ginger started but Sam interrupted her.

"The Beat Tie?"

Ginger pointed to the tie around his neck. Bonnie picked up the explanation, "I like to vary my bets. One of these days I think you're going to go with a striped one."

"I'm forty dollars up at the moment," Ginger added.

"Well, I'm going to throw a few spanners in the works. From now on there'll be no more predictable neck wear from me. You might want to open up the categories. A bowtie isn't out of the question."

Before Ginger could complain that this would make the odds more complicated, Toby entered the room. "What's going on? What's the problem?"

"We're discussing Sam's recent television appearances," Ginger explained.

"What's going on?" Josh leaned around the doorjamb.

"We're discussing Sam's recent whoring of himself on national television," Toby explained.

"Hey!" Sam objected. "While it's true that my involvement with the Statement of Aims has led to quite a lot of media interest and necessitated my appearance on a number of primetime news and current event shows, which, I may add can only help to highlight the importance that this administration is placing on the process, I think saying that I have been whoring myself is going a little too far."

"How many shows have you been on?" Josh asked.

"Okay, all I've done is Washington Week in Review, Face the Nation, Newsnight, Capital Beat and Crossfire." Sam looked at the four people gathered round his desk. "On the face of it, I admit, it appears that I may in danger of becoming a media whore. But it's all good. I'm presenting a side to the debate that needs to be aired in the public arena. For example, Toby, did you watch Capital Beat this morning?"

"Yes. Am I still up, Ginger?" Toby asked.

"Yep."

"Good," Toby turned to Sam. "Don't start spicing things up, I'm on a winning streak." Toby walked out of the office, swiftly followed by Josh, Bonnie and Ginger. Sam muttered something about spicing things up and got back to his work.

"Hey! Wait up," Josh ran down the corridor after Sam. "Are you headed over to the Embassy?"

"Yeah, I'm running late actually."

"I'll walk you out."

By the time Sam had got to the exit, he and Josh had agreed that he would phone when he knew he would be finished so that Josh could pick him up. Then it would be an evening of beer, pizza and the sports channel.

Sam called goodbye but then turned back. "Did you watch Capitol Beat this morning?"

"No, Donna did, why?"

"No, nothing."

Josh let Sam walk a few steps before he called out, "If you wear the yacht club tie, I'm going to clean up." He took the steps two at a time so that when Sam turned around, he was gone.

"That's 121 kidnappings a month, or about four a day, and you think we don't need to say who's responsible for that?" Sam's Colombian counterpart sat with his pen poised eager to list all of the groups working against the Colombian Government.

"We've made all the points we need to make, and we don't need to name names to make them. We're supporting you, but we're not going to get involved with targeting specific groups or cartels." Sam closed his laptop to show that he was finished.

"I have to keep asking, Sam."

"I know, and I have to keep answering no." Sam finished packing away his work and then held out his hand. One by one, the three men he had been working with for the past few months shook it.

The last man held Sam's hand in both of his. "It has been a…I was going to say a pleasure working with you, but it has been an honour. You are a fine writer, Sam."

Sam smiled warmly at the three men. "El honor era el mío," he replied and suddenly realising he would miss sitting in the plush surroundings of the Embassy, working with the three officials, he shook their hands again.

Sam walked out of the building and stood under the awning. It was a sunny day with a slight breeze in the air which he welcomed after spending the last few hours in a stuffy room. As much as he would miss working at the Embassy, he was glad that the rest of the week would be spent at the White House. The Statement was to be read out next week, with the Colombian Dinner two days later. With two important speeches coming up, Sam knew the next two days and most likely the weekend would be hard work.

He put all thoughts of the rest of the week to the back of his mind and focused on his plans for the evening. He scanned the sidewalk for Josh, and finally saw him having a heated discussion with Toby. It had been a long time since the three of them had spent any social time together and Sam called out a warm greeting and quickened his pace towards them.

Josh turned when he heard Sam call and waved distractedly. He was in the middle of a debate with Toby about the possible result of tonight's game. Sam was close enough to hear Toby yell, "But they don't do that, if they did they wouldn't keep losing!" when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Hi, I'm really late for a meeting and I can't make sense of this damn street map. Do you know where the Hilton is?"

Sam glanced at Josh who had clearly found no suitable response to Toby and now stood waiting impatiently for Sam to join them.

"Is it the Capital Hilton or the Hilton Washington? The Capital is down town but the Washington is just up here a little further," Sam explained.

"Oh crap, I don't know. Hold on, I've got the address somewhere." The man fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Sam saw Josh was gesturing at him to hurry up. He looked back at the man who was carefully unfolding the paper. Sam was getting impatient too and couldn't understand why the man was being so fastidious about opening it up.

Toby was now looking at Sam too and pointing at his watch, it was the last thing Sam saw clearly before a cloud of dust was blown into his face. The man beside him scrunched up the paper that had contained the dust and shoved it into his pocket. Sam rubbed at his eyes and tried to make sense of what had happened. The man now held his arm in a tight grip, he only had time to call out to Josh before he started to feel the effects of whatever it was that had been blown in his face.

He could see Josh running towards him and tried to take a step forwards but his legs gave way beneath him. Sounds were muffled, his vision was blurred and he could hardly keep upright. He wasn't aware of the second man holding him up, or the gun that was pointed at his head. His field of vision allowed him to just make out Josh running towards him and then suddenly stop.

Toby had grabbed at Josh and stopped him when he saw the van screeching to a halt behind Sam. Josh tried to shake free but at the same time one of Sam's captors produced a gun and even if Toby hadn't been holding him Josh still would have found himself frozen at the sight of it.

The van door was opened and the two men dragged a semi-conscious Sam towards it. Josh shouted helplessly at Toby to do something, but all he could do was stand and watch as the door to the van was closed and it sped off.

For a moment neither of them moved. Toby still had hold of Josh and he was scrunching the material of Josh's jacket tightly in his fist. He could feel Josh's heartbeat beneath it. He let go and Josh stumbled slightly before he found his feet.

Toby felt a swell of nausea and swallowed a few times. He knew he had to do something, Josh had yelled at him to do something, but for the moment he couldn't work out what it was.

A woman, who had watched the whole thing happen, ran towards Toby. "I'll call the police," she offered breathlessly.

On hearing her words Toby sprung into action. Phone people- that's what he needed to do. Call Leo, call Ron, do something. He fished in his pocket for his cell phone and glanced at Josh who was leaning against his car taking deep breaths. Toby made sure the woman had phoned the police and then pressed Leo's number. He walked over to Josh and leant against the car as he waited for Margaret to pick up. Josh turned to look at him. Toby kept his gaze fixed on the woman but he placed a hand on Josh's shoulder.

Margaret didn't knock, that was the first sign that something was wrong. The look on her face was the second. "Line two," was all she said and Leo grabbed the phone, dreading the news that awaited him on the other end.

Josh wanted to go, he couldn't do anything here. He wanted to go back to the White House. He had talked to two policemen and three agents, he had sat uselessly in his car while Toby talked to them and now he wanted to go. He walked towards Toby and waited for the agent to finish talking. "Toby, we need to go back to the office. We can't do anything here."

"We can't do anything there either, go wait in the car," Toby said irritably and realising that was the sort of thing you told a child he added. "I need to make sure I've told them everything I can remember. Wait for me in the car, I won't be long."

Josh walked away and ignored the calls from the press who had already gathered in large numbers around the police tape.

A few minutes later Toby walked over to the car and pulled their belongings from the back seat. "We're going back with an agent. Leave your keys on the seat."

Josh tried to steady his hands as he attempted to separate the car key from the ring.

"Slow down," Toby said quietly as if it was speed rather than Josh's shaking hands that was to blame for his fumbling. Eventually he achieved his task and followed Toby over to another car. Two agents sat waiting inside it.

The journey back to the White House was mostly spent in silence. Twice, Josh told the agents that he thought he had left his backpack in his car and both times Toby told him that he'd picked it up.

They walked to the Communications Bullpen in silence and were greeted with silence. Ginger, Bonnie and the other staffers stood around their desks. They watched Toby go into his office and shut the door. Josh walked on to his office and did the same.

Toby called for Ginger as he came out of his office. He was only discarding his coat, but he needed a few moments before facing Leo and Ron. "Have you got hold of his parents?"

"I'm on it, Toby. Can I get you anything?"

Toby was walking away but at Ginger's question he turned back towards her. "No," he answered before returning once more to practicalities. "Some agents will be coming down to go through Sam's things. Collect anything he was working on that's in my office or out here and show them it as well." Ginger watched Toby walk away and then set about her task, relieved to be doing something to help.

Donna stood in Josh's doorway and watched as he dropped his bag on his chair and hung up his coat. He walked behind his desk and straightened the papers then picked up a pen, opened his top drawer and threw it inside.

"Josh, Leo's waiting." Donna knew that Josh was aware of that but she also knew that if she left him alone he would still be tidying his office this time tomorrow. "It's happening, whether you stay in here or not."

Josh looked swiftly up at her. "I just need a minute…I just need to…" He looked back down at his desk, took a deep breath and then straightened. He glanced at Donna and then walked past her and out of his office.

There was an old curtain hanging from a boarded up window above the bed where Sam lay. The faded pattern on it matched a pillow that lay on the floor in the corner. They were the only remnants of a room that was once decorated with care, but now housed only a bed, sink and wardrobe.

Sam opened his eyes slowly and then shut them again. He felt like he always did when he'd been out drinking but this time he couldn't even remember where he had been or who he had been drinking with. His head throbbed and his stomach was lurching. The smell was the first thing that alerted him to the fact that he wasn't at home. The room was damp and as well as the smell of it, the cold began to seep through Sam's foggy mind. He opened his eyes again, this time squinting at his surroundings. The large brown object in front of him swayed violently and he shut his eyes tight again, taking deep breaths to quell the growing nausea.

Sam didn't know where he was but he knew he was frightened. He knew this situation wasn't the consequence of a good night out. He couldn't remember anything. He just knew he was frightened.

Nobody was sitting down in Leo's office. It had been four hours since Josh and Toby had seen Sam taken. They had spent some time in Leo's office with Ron going over what had happened. No calls had been made, no groups had claimed responsibility. So far, no one knew who had taken Sam or why. Toby had gone back to his office but the sight of the agents rifling through Sam's desk had been too much for him and after sitting in the Mess for a while, he had returned to Leo's office where he had been ever since. Josh had wandered around the West Wing ignoring the stares of his co-workers. He ended up at CJ's office.

She was on the phone, trying to find out what the media knew so far about Sam's abduction. Josh leant against the doorjamb and listened to her. Carol came to the door and when CJ saw the look on her face she quickly hung up the phone.

"Leo wants both of you." She turned to Josh, "They know who took Sam."

When CJ and Josh arrived in Leo's office they found Toby, Ron and two agents standing around the desk.

"FARC have just called the Washington Post. Can you believe it? They called the Post to tell them that they had Sam." Leo was fuming. He wrote something down on a piece of paper, called for Margaret and handed it to her. Everyone waited knowing he would continue when he had calmed down. "They want two rebel Colombian prisoners freed. Their trial is due to take place this Friday and they want them released before then."

Josh sat down next to Toby and dragged a hand through his hair. "Which we're not going to do," he said to himself more than to anyone in the room. "Did they say how long…" his voice tailed off.

"They said they would contact the White House within twenty-four hours, apart from that I don't know." Leo looked to Ron for confirmation.

"They'll have more structured requests when they contact us," Ron offered. "We just have to wait now."

Another agent appeared at the door and Ron went to talk to him. Toby sat on the sofa and continued to stare down at his clasped hands. Leo sat back behind his desk and pretended to be reading. CJ reached beside her and silently took Josh's hand. She felt hers squeezed in response.

Sam opened his eyes again. This time the sense of fear was with him on waking. He didn't need to try to make sense of his surroundings. He knew that wherever he was, he wasn't safe. He lifted his hand to wipe at his eyes and found that his hands were bound. On closer examination he realised that his tie, the object of so much joking that morning, must have been used to bind them. They were now secured with rope but his tie was still wrapped around one of his wrists. He wondered dryly if Ginger had taken bets on that.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door being unlocked. He tensed as he listened to the key being turned and closed his eyes. One…two…three steps and he was being pulled upwards and dragged towards the sink. He struggled, but then he saw the guns. One of the men had one in a holster and the other held one in his hand. Both men were dark haired and unkempt looking. They stank of alcohol and cigarettes. Sam swallowed hard against the bile that rose in his throat, as one of the men leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Time to wake up, Sam. We need you nice and alert." His head was violently pushed downwards and into the sink which was filled with cold water. Taken by surprise, Sam choked as the water went into his nose and mouth. The men held him down for what seemed like minutes and then pulled him up only to submerge his head again before Sam had managed to get his breath back. This was repeated four more times until the men were convinced that the shock of the water had allowed Sam to shake off any effects of the scopolamine that had been used to drug him only five hours earlier.

His captors spoke to each other in Spanish and carried on their conversation as they dragged Sam into the kitchen of the house. The kitchen was decorated and furnished as sparsely as the bedroom. Sam had been pushed into a chair at the table and more or less ignored. There were three men in the kitchen. The two who had brought him from the bedroom were having an animated conversation with a third man. He was much neater looking than his two companions and was clearly in charge. He stood smoking and listening to their debate, occasionally he glanced at Sam.

Sam was looking at anything but the room's other occupants. He looked at the portable TV that was sitting on top of the counter. There was a pile of food by the side of it, including four loaves of bread. Sam tried to work out how many days that would last the three men. He wondered if he would be killed when the bread ran out.

Sam could feel his leg shaking and he placed his foot firmly on the ground. He felt a swell of nausea rise again and silently prayed that he wouldn't throw-up in front of these men.

The men were silent now. Their heated debate had come to an end and by the looks on their faces it hadn't been resolved. The other man took a final draw on his cigarette before walking over to the table and sitting down opposite Sam.

Laying on the table was Sam's cell and next to it a cell phone nearly three times the size. Sam thought it must be at least five or six years old. "This is your cell phone, yes?" the man asked Sam without looking at him.

"Yes." It was the first thing Sam had said since he had been taken and his voice was croaky. He watched as the man's nicotine stained fingers tapped on the keys of his phone.

His fingers paused, "Who is Josh?"

"No one…just a friend."

Sam hadn't seen the other man walk up beside him and so when the punch came it took him completely by surprise. He was knocked off his chair by the force of it. The chair was righted and Sam was dumped back onto it. He wanted to rub his jaw, but he didn't want to show them he was in pain.

"That was my mistake," the man sitting at the table apologised, "I asked you the wrong question. What I meant was, is this the number for Josh Lyman, the Deputy Chief of Staff?"

"Yes," Sam clenched his hands in his lap.

"Let's see," the man continued as he scrolled through the numbers, "Karen…Leo cell…Leo office…Leo home…Mom…Michelle…Taxi 1…Taxi 2…Toby office…Toby home…Toby cell. Is that Toby Ziegler?"

"Yes." Sam still didn't know why he had been taken or by whom, but he knew now that whoever they were, they weren't amateurs.

"Your cell phone is a who's who of Washington, Sam. So let me see…" The nicotine brown fingers tapped the keys once more. "Ah, yes, Leo cell must be Leo McGarry." The man put his feet up on the table and lit another cigarette. He picked up the antiquated cell phone. "Let's give him a call."