Chapter Three

Two young men entered the makeshift office belonging to Methier, who was currently waxing a surf board. He glanced up at the men and stopped what he was doing.

"You wanted to see us, boss?" said the one with the curly, brown hair.

Methier glanced at him, then the one with the straight blond hair. "Jesse, Gunnar, I want the guy that won the contest taken out! That was supposed to be my win!" He slammed a fist onto his desk, which was otherwise just a normal wooden crate. "He's too good. And I can't make my drugs move without any money!"

"But boss, he's already injured," Gunnar began.

"And he still won!" Tim exploded. "I want him out! Nobody shows me up and gets away with it!"

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Ralph, his knee wrapped from a visit to the doctor a few hours prior, limped into his living room from the kitchen, carrying a box of tissues with him. He sat on the couch, pausing a moment. He grabbed a tissue and waited... then brought it up just in time to catch his sneeze. He blew his nose and wadded up the tissue, just as the phone rang. He got up with some trouble and crossed the room to the phone, throwing the used tissue into the garbage, just before picking up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Ralph? Hon, you don't sound too good," Pam said.

"I must've picked up a cold from being dunked in the 40 degree water during the contest yesterday," Ralph said, his voice a little rough and very nasal.

"That would explain why you didn't hear me leave this morning," Pam said.

"Yeah--" Ralph broke off, feeling a sneeze coming on. With the tissue box across the room and a not very long phone cord, he opted to put an index finger under his nose. "Sorry, fought off a sneeze."

"Listen, hon, I'll try to wrap up work earlier than usual..."

"No, Pamela, you don't have to do that. I'm fi--" He replaced the finger, fighting back another sneeze, "I'm fine."

"Sure, Ralph. I'll be home in a little bit, then you can stop being Mr. Tough Guy, okay?"

Ralph gave a slight grin. "Okay. See you in a bit, then. Bye."

"Bye."

He hung up the phone, then limped back across the room. He grabbed a tissue and all but fell onto the couch and let out a sneeze. He leaned back and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Mr. Tough Guy... ha! That wasn't what the doc thought earlier when he was checking out my knee."

A knock came at the front door and Ralph sighed. "Great." He got up and started making his way to the door, while the knocking continued. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" He shook his head. "I swear if that's Bill with some scenario..." He opened the door. "Now, wha--" He broke off seeing two young men standing at the door. "Oh, um, sorry, uh, can I help you?"

Both men grinned. "You sure can," Jesse said, stepping forward.

"Wait a minute," Ralph began, as he moving backwards a bit, "weren't you at the contest yesterday?"

"Yeah, we were, and that's why we're here now," Gunnar said, closing the front door.

Ralph backed into the wall, making a face, knowing full well that the magic jammies were currently in his closet in their box. "Wh-- How come?"

"Because you messed up big time by winning that contest," Jesse responded.

Ralph started towards the living room. "I won it fairly..." Okay, so that isn't the whole truth, he thought.

"Our boss wants to have a talk with you," Gunnar said.

Ralph backed his way past the desk and felt the top of his briefcase at his fingertips. And he remembered he still had a stack of loose papers inside...

"You know, guys, I'd love to chat with your boss, but you see, I really don't have the time. Matter of fact, I'm late for an appointment right now..." Ralph yanked out a handful of papers and threw them towards the men's faces, causing them to shield themselves, effectively giving Ralph a chance to get around them.

Unfortunately, he could only manage a hobble, heading out the front door. He limped his way across the front of the house, towards the station wagon. He reached into one pocket of his jeans, then the other... and came up empty-handed. "Damn..."

"There he is!"

Ralph glanced over his shoulder and saw the two men coming after him again. He sucked in a breath and rolled over the hood of the station wagon. He nearly fell onto the grass rolling off the hood, but managed to stay upright and started towards the sidewalk, headed down the street.

The two men ran around the station wagon and caught up to him at the wooden fence between Ralph's and the neighbor's house. Jesse pushed Ralph against the fence, while Gunnar clamped a hand over Ralph's mouth.

"Bad move," Gunnar sneered, then nodded to Jesse, who kicked at Ralph's bum knee, sending him to the ground, crying out in pain.

Gunnar went to the car, parked just a few feet away and opened the back door. Jesse wrapped one of Ralph's arms around his shoulders, making it look like he was simply helping him to the car. Ralph did his best to struggle, but wasn't getting anywhere with only one good leg. Reaching the car, Jesse shoved him into the back of the dark blue sedan.

And at the same time, a familiar beige Dodge Diplomat came up the street. Bill saw Ralph get shoved into the back of the sedan and pulled his own car diagonally in front of the dark sedan. He swung the driver's door open and leaned on the roof, aiming his service gun. "Freeze it! FBI!"

The sedan's tires squealed as it backed into the neighbor's driveway and pulled back out. Bill barely had time to register what was happening. All he knew was that Ralph had been shoved into the back of that car. He got back into the Diplomat and started it up. He did a three-point turn on the street and started after the sedan.

But the blue sedan already had a decent head start on the Diplomat. Bill was just barely able to follow for the first couple of streets, but then lost them at a particularly busy intersection with extremely shortly timed green lights.

Bill turned the Diplomat around and headed back to the house. He pulled the car to a stop and got out, then headed up the path. Bill found the front door unlocked, as expected, and went in. He noted no sign of forced entry. There was no sign of a struggle in the living room... except for about 50 sheets of paper on the floor. Bill shook his head and kept looking for clues.

After a few minutes of looking, then picking up the papers, Pam arrived. "Hi, Bill. I'd told Ralph that I'd be getting in earlier since he isn't feeling very good and..." she glanced at the couch. "Is he in the bedroom?"

"No, Counselor--"

"Bathroom?" she interrupted.

"Counselor, no, we've got a problem bigger than a little cold," Bill said finally. "Ralph's not here--"

"Oh no... he got worse!" Pam assumed.

"Counselor, wouldja let me finish!" Bill said, frustrated. "I think Ralph's been kidnapped, more than likely by Methier's goons. I've got the file out in the car."

"Kidnapped?" Pam repeated. "I talked to him not even thirty minutes ago."

"And that's how fast it happen. I pulled up as they weren't throwin' him in the car," Bill explained.

"Any ideas on where they might've taken him?"

"I've got a few."

Pam nodded. "And we'd better check them out quick. If Methier was indeed behind Ralph's injury at the contest, who knows what they might have in mind for him this time."

Bill nodded. "I'm gonna guess he didn't have the jammies on, otherwise those two garbanzo beans wouldn't've been able to get the kid in the first place. We better bring it... Where's he hide it, anyway?"

"In the closet in the bedroom. I'll get it," Pam replied, then went into the bedroom. She returned moments later, the suit in her arms. She grabbed Ralph's briefcase from the desk and stuffed the suit inside. With that, they left the house, headed for the beige Diplomat.

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