After what George estimated was about forty-five minutes driving on what felt like flat Los Angeles streets, they started going uphill. It was steep enough for him to feel the pull of gravity. George suspected they were traveling up one of the numerous canyons of Los Angeles. He heard no conversation between the abductors, which suggested there was no confusion as to where they were going.
Suddenly the van slowed and seemed to pull off the main road. George guessed they had left pavement as he could hear gravel crackling under the tires. Then the van stopped and George heard a muffled creaking noise that sounded like a gate being opened. He strained to listen for other sounds that might give him a better sense of where they were. The van started to move again, still on gravel. After a minute or two it stopped again. This time the engine was turned off and a few moments later the doors opened, including the ones in the back.
Immediately George sensed dry air coming into the van. It was also decidedly cooler here than at Paula’s house in Santa Monica. Putting together all the clues of drive time, uphill travel, and the change in temperature and humidity, he surmised that they could be somewhere up in the Hollywood Hills. Maybe the location to which Zee had traced one of the high-anonymity proxy servers that had something to do with overwriting the iDoc dump commands.
The blanket that had covered them was pulled away, and they were again half carried and half dragged out of the van. Outside of the vehicle, they shivered in the night air until blankets were draped over their shoulders. That act alone made them both feel more optimistic. If their abductors cared enough about their well-being, then the situation might be hopeful. They were pushed forward across the gravel drive on their tender bare feet until they eventually reached the relief of a paved sidewalk.
As he walked George could glimpse a section of the walkway through a small open space at the bottom of the hood covering his head. He could tell that a string of lights ran along the walk. He heard the howl of a coyote in the distance as they entered a lighted building and were pulled to a stop. To their surprise, their hoods were pulled off, and they were shocked to see all five of their abductors standing before them with their faces fully exposed.
Their captors were all large, powerful-appearing, racially diverse men with short haircuts that made George think of the Special Forces. All were armed with holstered sidearms. The fact that the men were allowing themselves to be seen sent a chill down George’s spine. He knew that kidnappers never showed their faces if there was a chance that the victims would be released once ransom demands were made. Since their abductors had shown themselves, George worried that there were no plans for them to be released. His mind raced through all other options and came up blank, and a bolt of terror rippled through him again.
Paula, obviously panicked, nonetheless immediately launched into a vociferous tirade. “What the hell is going on here! Who are you? Why have we been brought here? You people can’t go around kidnapping whomever the hell you damn want!”
George cringed. He was worried that she was inviting the beating that had been threatened earlier.
The men in black didn’t respond. It became apparent that they were waiting. Waiting for what? George wondered. He looked around, noting that they were in a large reception or waiting room area. The place had a definite institutional feel. Everything was white, tan, or gray. The furniture was nondescript and definitely not new, maybe from the fifties or sixties. The floor was some sort of composite material, like old-fashioned linoleum. There were a scattering of dated magazines on side tables. For illumination, there were banks of harsh, recessed fluorescent lights.
All at once a door opened and three men and three women appeared. All were middle-aged and dressed in pressed white pants and shirts. There was no talk and certainly no smiles. The ethnically diverse group comprised a couple of African Americans, a Caucasian, two Latinos, and an Asian. What that suggested, if anything, George had no idea. They shared a common trait: all were large and muscular and appeared capable of handling an unruly person, if need be.
It was immediately apparent to both George and Paula that they had been expected. There was no conversation. The men in black merely nodded to the newly arrived attendants, then disappeared back out into the night. Their mission was apparently over.
For a moment Paula watched the men leave and, recovering from the shock, she turned to the attendants and directed a slightly modified repeat of the furious attack she had unleashed on the abductors. “Where are we? Why have we been brought here? This is crazy! We’ve been kidnapped.”
The attendants were unfazed. The women pulled Paula back toward the door from which they had come.
Paula screamed, “Let go of me! I’m not going in here! What kind of freaking place is this?”
“Ma’am,” one of the women calmly responded, “you are in a private mental health rehabilitation center.”
“What! Why?” Paula demanded. She sounded more infuriated than scared. She tried to refuse to move.
The attendants were apparently accustomed to Paula’s attitude. One of the attendants took a syringe out of her pocket.
Paula’s eyes opened wide, and she quieted down. She did not want to be injected. “Okay, okay! I’ll go.” She hesitantly allowed herself to be moved forward into the facility.
“It’ll be okay, Paula!” George called after her. “Just do as they say for now!” His mind was going a mile a minute, trying desperately to figure out what was happening. Then two of the male attendants grabbed George’s arms and urged him to follow Paula.
George heard the heavy door close behind them with a concussive sound, advertising just how impenetrable it was. A resounding click indicated it was locked up tight.
Paula heard it, too, and was suddenly in a near hysteria. She tried to stop and free herself from the grasp of the attendants. “You don’t understand!” she yelled. “We’re here against our will! We’ve truly been kidnapped by those apes that brought us here! We need to call the police!”
The attendants said nothing, strengthened their grip on her arms, and nudged her forward.
She stared at their maddeningly calm faces in disbelief. “I said we’ve been kidnapped! Don’t you get it?”
The attendant with the syringe responded. “Yes, we get it. We hear that a lot. That’s what most all the people say when they first arrive.”
Paula and George were shocked into silence by the comment. Paula looked back at George questioningly. George made an expression of total confusion. They were both at a complete loss.
“Please!” the attendant said. “Be cooperative! It is for your own good. We need to get you comfortable.”
Reluctantly, Paula acquiesced.
The two were led through a large common area furnished similarly to the outer reception area. There were no signs of any other people. Then they were escorted down a long, brightly lit corridor. There was no conversation. Paula had seemingly resigned herself to the situation. They came to a door, which one of the female attendants opened with a key attached to a ring, which was in turn attached by a wire to her trousers. She motioned to Paula to go inside.
Paula hesitated and George took a step forward to look. It was a relatively small room, approximately ten feet by ten feet, and all white, with a simple bed and chair. There were no windows. George felt a nudge on his back and moved down the hall.
He could hear Paula protesting that she didn’t want to go into the room. One of the women told her that if she didn’t cooperate, she would be tranquilized. That was the last thing George heard as he was pulled to a stop outside another door beyond which was a room similar to Paula’s.