FraidyCat A/N: Let me make this perfectly clear for the confused and war torn: The Silent Rumble is MALE. Try not to accuse him of being a "gal" again! (I would suggest reading our individual profiles for hints in this area, but I do not want to get pissy and discourage readers/reviewers -- so pretend I didn't say that.) Oswald's voice is so spot-on because Jason speaks that language...
WYWH, Chapter 9: The Other Kidnapping
Don growled at the telephone. "He's not answering his phone," he snapped. "That was a whole lot of good. Oswald, next time you suggest calling Chicago PD, I'm going to kick your ass…" He stopped his threat when he realized Oswald was shaking, and instead offered him a steadying hand.
"Sorry," Oswald said.
"It's okay, man. Don't worry about it. Come on, let's interview that Marshall guy."
"I got his room number," Oswald suddenly remembered.
"Good. That saves me a whole hour. Let's do that before we go pick up my dad; maybe we can surprise him with a lead."
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TWENTY MINUTES LATER"Leads are good," Oswald grumbled to himself as Don knocked on Marshall's door. "Leads are damn good."
"Hey!" A voice suddenly called. "Down here."
Don half-turned and peered down the hallway. Headed toward Oswald and himself was an average man. Average height, average weight, average looks. "What is it?" Don growled.
When Average Man reached them, Don saw that his face was as serious as the Grim Reaper's. "You lookin' for that Charlie kid?"
Don glanced at Oswald to see if he recognized the guy. Oswald looked as blank as he felt. He looked back at Average. "How did you know?"
"You're his brother," replied the man, surprising Don. "He speaks very highly of you — showed me a picture of the two of you together, once. I been trying to remember your name, figure out how to reach you. I think I stumbled on a big lead about where he could be."
Don turned completely away from the unanswered door, moving closer to Oswald. "I'm listening."
Oswald started to speak, hesitantly. "Don, I think I know…" He abruptly shut his mouth at the glare from Don, and dropped his eyes to the floor.
"Go on," Don encouraged their visitor.
"Yeah, well, we saw the kid late last night. He stumbled in. He was definitely drunk… My buddy Alexander thought he saw him being persuaded into that room down there."
Don's eyes followed the guy's pointing finger and he fidgeted. This was too convenient. He knew he shouldn't trust this dude any farther than he could throw him, but maybe he could play along for a while, and get some information. Having Oswald there was a definite complication. He had to keep the kid safe, and hope he could control him without words.
As if to feed his apprehension, Oswald tried to speak again, tugging at his sleeve. "Don, I don't think you should …" Before he could say the word trust, or anything else Don didn't want him to say, Don took off and was halfway down the hall. He walked rapidly, leaving Average Man to bring up the rear with Oswald. Wondering how he could communicate his plan to the kid, Don didn't even notice when the "tipster" grabbed Oswald around the neck with one hand, and held a knife to his throat with the other.
He heard the startled yelp, though. Don had just reached the room Average Man had sent them to when he whipped around. By this time Oswald and his captor were almost on top of him. Don swore under his breath and fumbled for his borrowed Chicago PD gun, but he stumbled as Average thrust Oswald into him, hard. The door of the hotel room had been unlatched, and when their bodies hit it, both Don and Oswald fell into a heap inside.
"What the hell," Don started, but hands were firmly clamped over his mouth, and he didn't get to finish. Still more hands restrained him and relieved him of his weapon. He was kicked solidly in the ribs, and he grunted, trying to roll into a self-protective ball.
Oswald was pried off Don during the struggle. Lying on the floor, Don could now see at least two other men besides Average Guy. He had blown it. How could he find Charlie if he needed saving himself?
Don struggled mightily as he was brought roughly to his feet, and gagged. He watched as the same was done to Oswald. While two of the men concentrated on using Don's own borrowed handcuffs on him, Average Man shoved Oswald into a straight-back chair. He used short lengths of rope to secure him.
Don broke free momentarily, landing a solid kick to somebody's knee. Raising his cuffed hands, he pulled down his gag and charged the man closest to him, yelling at the top of his lungs and hoping someone in the hotel heard. Average quickly abandoned Oswald and joined the fracas.
When it was three-on-one, Don quickly found himself subdued again, and wrestled to the floor. His ribs screamed in protest, and he tried to drown them out. "Where's Charlie?", he shouted. "Take me to my brother!"
The largest of the three men literally sat on him, and the other two gagged him again. Part of the rope was then used to tie his ankles together, and he was "hog-tied" in a painful, arching "U": His legs and arms were bent toward each other until more rope could be used to secure them together.
Average stood over him, huffing a little. He planted another foot in Don's ribs. "Stop yer yellin'," he commanded. "You'll see Charlie in due time. According to The Boss, as soon as we get the right computer, you're all expendable."
Oswald had witnessed the entire struggle, eyes growing wider and wider. He began to wring his hands in worry and jolted a little. I have seen too many damn action films, he found himself thinking. I'm starting to believe I could actually get out of these ropes.
Average interrupted his thoughts. After yet another kick to Don's ribs, he crossed the room and stood in front of the younger man.
"You have to be Oswald," he sneered. "Charlie speaks very highly of you also. My associates and I made a small mistake last night. Marshall told us that you and Charlie would exchange computers, but when we saw Eppes keep looking at the one is his room -- like he was scared we'd notice -- we figured he must not have followed protocol, this trip. Turns out we were wrong. We just finished ripping apart your room before you two showed up, though, and we can't seem to come up with another one." He reached out and yanked down Oswald's gag. "Tell us where it is."
Oswald felt all of his lunch sinking into the bottom of his stomach. He looked at Don, who despite his alphabet shape, was trying to shake his head "no". Oswald swallowed, and looked back at his tormentor.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, shakily. In reality, he knew very well. When he had gone back to his own room that morning to call the police, like Don had instructed him, his eyes had fallen on the laptop and he had followed a sudden instinct. Without even knowing why he did it, while he was waiting for the police and his redhead was dressing for company, Oswald had taken the laptop downstairs and asked the desk clerk to put it in the hotel safe. There, supposedly, it still rested.
"Where is it?" Average insisted, backhanding Oswald across the face.
Oswald tasted blood. He looked beligerantly at the man. "Dammit, I said I don't know what you're talking about! Maybe he left it in the conference room or something!" He hoped he appeared convincing.
Average Man roughly re-gagged him and turned to snarl at his companions. "He's lying. They both need some persuasion. Get the laundry cart again — transport them both to the warehouse. I will meet you there at 1700 hours."
The other two goons looked at each other, and one finally spoke, sounding a little frightened. "Sir?"
Average Man was already halfway to the door. "What?", he snapped.
"When, exactly, is 1700 hours?"
Average rubbed a hand over his face and Oswald made a noise of unmistakeable mirth behind his gag. Average lowered his hand and glared at him. "Shut the hell up," he commanded. Turning toward his employees, he continued the glare. "1700 is 5:00 p.m., you idiots. Where the hell did Marshall get you guys?"