Joe awoke slowly. He could hear a seagull and wondered how one could be so close to his house as he groggily opened his eyes. "Mmmm," he moaned, awareness hitting him like a ton of lead. He wasn't at home and it was obvious he was no longer in the mansion he had been in previously.

He moved his right arm to try and stretch out a kink and was pleasantly surprised to discover that he was no longer bound. He sat up and swung his legs to the floor, letting his hands rest on the soft mattress as he took in his new surroundings.

Not a large room by any means but there was a bed, a desk and chair, and a lamp. He stood shakily and checked the three doors. The first was locked: obviously the exit. The second door was a miniature closet while the third opened to reveal a toilet; sink and compact shower stall. Sighing, he turned around and walked to the small porthole and looked out at the expanse of sea.

No land or boat in sight. He rubbed the back of his neck as he returned to the bed and sat down. He wondered where he was and why he had been moved? He also wondered how long he had been asleep? But most of all, he wondered if his dad or brother had any clue as to who had taken him or why?

His musings were interrupted by the sound of a lock turning. Seconds later the door opened and Matt entered the room with a tray. "I don't want anything," Joe said, glaring at him.

"It's not drugged," Matt informed him. "This is where you'll stay until you are released."

"Am I going to be released?" Joe demanded, his eyes searching Matt's. "Or am I going to be killed?"

"That depends on Sorrel," Matt answered. "But until we know one way or the other, there is no since in starving yourself."

"How long was I out?" Joe asked as Matt set the tray down on the desk. He had decided Matt's point was valid.

"About twelve hours," Matt answered. "There are some clothes in the closet if you want to shower and change," he added.

"I saw them," Joe replied. "Why did you lie about my wallet?" he asked the man for the second time in their meager acquaintance.

Matt never answered. He merely stared at Joe with a stone face. "Right," Joe said, realizing he shouldn't ask the question again. But he couldn't help but wonder if Matt was a spy for Sorrel, the government, or merely one of Tippoli's men who knew his father and had reasons of his own for not revealing Joe's true identity.

Matt left Joe's quarters, locking the door behind him. Joe got up and lifted the lid off of the tray to see what he had been given: bacon; eggs; grits and toast. "Breakfast time," Joe guessed, looking out the porthole once more. No sun. So it was either not really morning or he wasn't facing east. It looked a few shades darker in the distance so he guessed he was probably somewhere in the Pacific. A long way from where he had been Wednesday evening. With a sigh, Joe pulled out the desk chair and sat down. Matt had been right about one thing: there was no point in going hungry.

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"How is our guest?" Tippoli inquired as Matt entered.

"Chomping at the bit," Matt answered. "I don't think he is overly fond of his new quarters."

"Yes, well, if the Feds hadn't interfered we would be rid of him by now," Tippoli replied. "Sorrel was complying with our request."

"Are you sure?" Matt asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"What do you mean by that remark?" Tippoli demanded curiously.

Matt shrugged. "It just seemed to me that he gave in too easily."

Tippoli's face turned stormy. "Could he have tipped the Feds off?" he wondered out loud. "Having to leave without notice was no small inconvenience," he continued, growing angrier by the second. "If Ford hadn't noticed the Feds when he did, then we would all be in trouble for kidnapping."

"You shouldn't keep the boy with you," Matt pointed out. "Then the Feds couldn't get you for anything."

"You are right," Tippoli agreed. "Since Sorrel tried to double cross me, I have the perfect solution : we will eliminate the boy."