For prompt 9: Kidnapped
Alex didn't know when getting kidnapped had become a normal occurrence, but he was sure he could blame Alan Blunt for every single one of them. Until now. Alex might still blame the man just for the hell of it.
He had been visiting James Sprintz at his home in Düsseldorf in Germany, when James' father had been invited to a charity dinner at Altes Rathaus, the oldest part of the town hall, and had asked if they wanted to come.
Well, more like Dieter Sprintz had ordered his son to come to make business connections and preserve the 'family reputation,' and James had dragged Alex with him.
"If I have to suffer those stuffy old Arschlöcher showing off their wealth for hours, at least you'll be there to appreciate the hilarious jokes I'm gonna make behind their backs," James had said, and Alex had reluctantly agreed. While spending hours at some fancy party wasn't really what Alex considered fun, there would at least be good food. And it would be more entertaining than staying alone at the Sprintz' mansion.
Alex had borrowed one of James' old suits that fit him well enough, a red tie, and a pair of fancy dress shoes that were about as uncomfortable as they looked, and they had been off.
The evening had ended up being more entertaining than Alex had thought. Mostly because Sprintz had ignored his father's pointed advice not to overdo the wine and had made a fool of himself trying to chat up the mayor's oldest daughter. Whom, for one, had not been impressed with James nearly spilling said wine over her blazer, and two had come to the party with her girlfriend. A girlfriend who sent James an impressive glower when she materialized beside her date, two drinks in hand.
Alex got the chance to practice his German as he attempted to smooth things over after a seething Dieter had dragged his drunken friend away, and Alex had ended up spending the evening chatting with the pair. It turned out the major's daughter, Tina, was a huge football fan, while her girlfriend Ayla practised karate, and their shared interests had carried the conversation for the rest of the evening.
Tina's dark blazer matched Ayla's Middle Eastern complexion, and Ayla's long dress was the exact same red shade as Tina's hair. Even at fifteen, they made for an intimidating pair as they strode through the room, chins high as if they owned the place. Alex trailed behind, probably resembling a lost duckling in comparison, and tried to keep up as Tina explained who everyone was, adding at least one or two scandalous secrets about their families Alex was sure you couldn't find in any tabloid magazine. The pair would be terrifying in a few years; they were already well on their way.
Alex really wished he had paid more attention when Ayla had commented on how much he resembled the son of the American ambassador, Oliver Moore, who spent the evening trailing his father, looking bored out of his mind.
Later that night, Alex had escorted the girls to their car, which had parked right outside the front entrance, the major and his wife already waiting impatiently inside. They had exchanged phone numbers, and Alex had promised to meet up with them before going back to London, so – as Ayla had jokingly said before getting into the car – 'she could look good for her girlfriend when she kicked Alex arse in a spar.'
Alex waved them off and turned to go back inside to find where James and his father had disappeared to, or at least find out if he needed to call a taxi back to the estate, when two men dressed as valets grabbed him from behind, cuffed his hands behind his back, and showed him in the boot of a car before he could do much more than shout and give his two attackers a few bruises.
He had no idea if the attackers had acted too quickly for security to do anything, or if someone had been paid off to look away, but no one tried to stop them as they raced away, tires squealing.
As soon as the car had taken off, Alex began working on getting out of the cuffs; a hard job with no tools, little space, and who knew how much time. He had no wish to find out who had kidnapped him and why. The answers would be nothing good. It was a little sad how many he knew who both had the means and motive – though the list did get a lot shorter when you needed to tick the box: 'currently alive enough to act on those motives'.
They couldn't have been driving more than ten minutes – too little time for him to slip the cuffs while being thrown around by their crazy driving. Whoever gave the driver their licence should be fired – before the car pulled to a stop and the boot opened again. Alex screwed his eyes shut against the light, and while he was busy blinking to adjust his sight, his kidnappers took their chance to pull a black hood over his head, muffling his surprised shout.
"Don't try anything funny, Moore. Cooperate and you'll not be forced to hurt you," the one holding him muttered into his ear. Alex froze, though not in fear as his kidnappers expected.
Moore? The name sounded familiar. Right. Ayla had mentioned it earlier.
They thought he was the son of the American ambassador.
Change of plan. Alex might not be the best to think things through before acting, but he knew it would be in his best interest to keep up the charade. These guys were at least semi-professionals, even if they sucked at identifying their target, and there was a good chance they would keep him unharmed if he played his part, but if they found out they had got the wrong person all bets were off.
Time to pull off an American accent. Again.
Alex thought back to the last time he tried this when he did his first mission for the CIA and mentally winced. Maybe he should keep the snark in his head, for now, to not give himself away immediately.
That didn't mean he would make this easy for his new friends though. He already had some pretty 'lit' ideas.
Themes: Kidnapping, imprisonment, one German curse-word
