Chapter 9
"Okay, Probie. You're going to help me now." The man knelt down and cut the ropes binding Tim's hands then ripped off the duct-tape and fabric covering his eyes. Tim didn't move.
"Come on, Probie. Time to work." He kicked him in the ribs; when Tim still didn't move, he pulled him up by his broken arm and plunked him down in the chair. He then tied him to the chair and pushed the chair up to the computer. "I want you to hack into NCIS and get those files."
Mechanically, Tim started typing. He had a vague idea that he could do something to prevent this man from getting what he wanted, but his overriding thought was that if he did what the man said, he'd leave him alone. Just moving his broken arm caused sharp shooting pain, but he persisted, tears streaming down his face. It took some time for his eyes to adjust to the sudden light and he fumbled a bit on the keyboard, but he kept at it. NCIS was so familiar to him that it took very little time to get in. Once he was in, he got to his own files. He was staring blankly at the file names when he suddenly saw what he'd been missing in the encryption. The problem was that he'd been looking at them from a purely financial point of view. Lieutenant Dobson had been involved in a lot more than that. These files contained not only financial data from his embezzling scheme, but they also had lists of contacts and prices. Prices for what, he didn't know, but he kept working through the encryption, trying his best to get what was required.
The realization that he'd broken through Dobson's blocks sent a brief wave of awareness through his mind. Tim didn't dare glance around. He was afraid of what, or whom, he'd see. He also didn't want to attract attention. He was about to try something. If someone, hopefully Abby, was looking at his computer or at the files themselves, he could send some sort of message. If they saw it, they could possibly track his connection and find him. At this point, it wasn't that he wanted them to catch his torturer; his only thought was that maybe they could get him away. A few days earlier, he'd have been focused more on trying to get the guy arrested, but the torture had been effective and Tim didn't care how they saved him. He just wanted to be saved. Two extra keystrokes brought up a small text box. He didn't have time to think. Trembling, he typed, "help me" into the prompt and pushed enter. Then, without hesitation he continued working, albeit a little more slowly. Before he got very far though, the man came over, knocked over the chair he was in, untied the ropes, and rebound his hands and feet with no regard for Tim's broken bones. Tim held his breath, waiting for the man to realize what he'd done.
"I'm done with you for now, Probie. This is a good start. You might survive this yet." He replaced the blindfold and turned on the webcam and then kicked him a few times before leaving him alone. At first he was relieved that he had managed to do something without his captor knowing. Then, Tim groaned. What if no one saw his message? Had he been on long enough to actually get the message sent? Did he do it right? Through the haze of pain that clouded his mind, Tim couldn't be sure about exactly what he'd been doing.