Date: Mon, 11 Nov 2013 00:22:10 -0500
From: Eff Del <nolitimere156@gmail.com>
Subject: Young-But Daily Growing-Part 21

Young but Daily Growing-Part 21

By Eff Dell

True helplessness is the dependency upon others to do for us what we can
and (by nature) should do for ourselves. This is poverty of the deepest
kind for it is not poverty of the pocket but of the soul.

The man who will not strive to lift himself but instead has come to expect
another to stoop and offer aid and succor is destitute in all those things
that make us men.

Such a person is exceptionally poor because he has lost not just dignity
but his very humanity. He is no longer helpless, he is hopeless.

The man with the yellow teeth had changed out of the brown sport jacket and
had dressed himself in tight fitting black leather which clung to his tall
skeletal body like some strange dead layer of skin that has become darkened
and foul while still remaining intact...dried and reptilian.

The atmosphere in the room swirled purple and grey glowing with a
luminosity of its own. It was like an abnormal mist or smoke had filled the
space illuminating while simultaneously hiding all but that which it chose
to reveal.

His laughter had turned from simpering to sinister as he leered at me and
with a flourish of his hand and wrist, drew my attention from his hideously
grinning face to the naked black haired boy kneeling at his feet.

"Share your talents with Uncle Dwight!" he cackled as he viciously grabbed
a handful of dark hair and forced the boy's head back.

"See, Uncle Dwight has brought you some candy!"

I struggled to reach them but I was held stiffly in place by bonds that
were unseen and unfelt. It was if my body was stone and only my eyes were
mine to control.

He took his inhumanly long cock and forced it into the child's open mouth
somehow achieving complete entry.

His emaciated hips thrust and gyrated obscenely as he viciously pleased
himself in the wet heat from the open drooling maw of the wide eyed little
boy.

Trying desperately to move but unable to do so, I watched this horror until
the thin death like man eventually grew tired of his game.

Withdrawing his snake like member from the now weeping child, he lifted the
little body up and laid it spread eagled upon a nearby table. With one claw
like hand he grasped both tiny ankles and forced the boy's feet back and
over its head. The youngster's ass was raised and the tiny pucker of his
rectum completely exposed and vulnerable.

"Too bad you waited too long to try some of this!" laughed the vile specter
as he glared at me with wild red rimmed eyes.

"I'll bet he's tight and hot eh? Let's find out shall we?"

Without pause or warning he drove the long purple veined dick deep into the
boy's unlubed hole... bottoming out in one swift cruel motion. His evil
cackles of mirth almost drowned out the little boy's shrieks of pain.

He fucked the child viciously for what seemed like hours until finally
making one brutal ultimate thrust, he flung back his head and howled like a
beast in pleasure and triumph.

The little boy sat up and looked at me with tortured sad blue/green eyes.
Through tears and sobs he said;

"You PROMISED. You said you'd protect me...that nothing would ever hurt me."

"Sean...Sean," I gasped as I fought my invisible bonds. "I'm trying baby I
swear to God I'm trying I just can't get to you!"

"Enough fun for now!" the dark man chuckled. "Time to put our toy back in
the box!"

In rage and terror I watched helplessly as he picked up the feebly
struggling boy and placed him into a small, black metal casket.

Before he had closed the lid completely I could hear the child's plaintive
cries;

"Daddy! Daddy! Pleeeease! Please help me!"

The room was filled with loud guttural animal like screams.

They were mine.

*****

I was sitting up in bed shaking.

My body, my clothes and my bedding were soaked from sweat.

Strong hands grasped my shoulder and suddenly a light snapped on.

"Eric! Eric...it's all right! It's all right you were dreaming. You had a bad
dream and who can blame you?"

I looked up at Doc Swaim who was grasping me and looking down with concern.
In the background I could see John pouring what looked like a tall shot of
whisky into a glass.  He hastily brought it to me.

"Here, drink this Eric. It will help calm you down."

I shook my head to clear it. I remembered.

 I was awake now but I was still in a very bad dream made far worse by the
fact that this was actually real.

The horrible recollections filled my head taking their proper places in the
picture of bleakness and fear that were the past several hours.

The police had arrived on the scene surprisingly quickly after we had
discovered the abduction. It seemed like mere moments before investigators
were swarming over the locker room, pool area and the parking lot. I
realized it had all taken longer than that, but I suspect I was in shock
and therefore, time was not passing at a normal pace for me.

I did remember that despite my shock and fear, I had made some quick and
intelligent decisions.

I'd arraigned for the six nearly hysterical little boys from the team along
with their families to be flown home in my jet.

I'd also sent a protesting Martha back home as well.

I had suggested that Doc Swaim and Walter return with her but Doc insisted
he was staying with me and Walter had shaken his head and then led me off
to the side of the room.

Looking at me with an intensity I'd never seen from him before he said;

"Eric, I fucked up. I didn't do my job properly. If I had, this would never
have happened. Maybe I'm getting too old."

I stared at him in total bewilderment.

"What are you saying Walter?" I managed to ask.

"Eric, there's a lot that you don't know...don't understand. Your father died
before he could tell you and you've spent so many years drunk and...well
screwed up in the head...Phil has never had the chance to sit you down and
explain. That's our fault...but it's your fault too."

He was obviously struggling to tell me something...to make me understand but
I was presently not receptive and he was too emotionally charged up to
articulate clearly.

"I realize you don't know much about things that happened...in the past, but
I used to do...things for your father. Together we built an amazing thing and
I'm a part of it.

Part of my charge...part of my job was you and Kyle and your safety...nobody
could have foreseen the accident that took your father and Kyle but I
should have seen THIS I should have stopped it.

Now I've got to fix it. I've got to do this alone and quietly

You let the Professor and John stay with you and I'll call you as soon as I
can."

He gave my shoulder a squeeze and left. I hadn't seen him since. I wondered
briefly what in the hell he had been talking about but eventually chalked
it up to his own peculiar way of dealing with the shock of the entire
situation.

I had other demanding things to face.

I'd rented out the entire upper floor of the Capital Inn after discovering
that it consisted of six suites plus a medium sided meeting room. After
moving up onto the floor the police and shortly afterward the FBI set up a
command center in the meeting room.

I'd called Uncle Phil and asked him to move into Joyous Gaurde for the
duration and act as my point man. Working on the assumption that there was
going to be a ransom demand I also had him look into liquidating assets
into cash so that we would have it on hand as required.

The FBI had thus far done a very good job keeping the story from the press
but there had been so many people at the swim meet that is was only a
matter of time... very little time before the news became public. I asked Doc
Swaim to be prepared for that surety and to act as my personal contact with
the press.

I'd spend a couple of hours reviewing the situation with Senior Agent Clair
Dunn of the FBI who had arrived and taken charge shortly after our initial
call to the police. Some basic information had surfaced within hours of the
crime.

Fortunately, the Sports complex had a good network of security cameras
placed around the grounds and very quickly a video was produced that
clearly showed a tall thin man in a sports jacket carrying a surprisingly
compliant dark haired boy clad only in a skimpy swim suit across the
parking lot behind the locker room and placing him into the back of a white
cargo van.

 From his actions or rather lack of actions, the boy appeared to be
unconscious.

The camera lens and angle were good enough that the license number of the
van was clearly visible.

Within 20 minutes we knew that the van had been reported stolen the
previous evening.

Walter's surmise had proven to be correct and the press pass found on the
floor of the locker room was in fact a fake. There were several different
fingerprints lifted off the pass and these were being checked.

I knew in advance that one set would turn out to be mine and another would
be Walter's. One, it was assumed, would be the kidnaper's and hopefully
these would lead to an identification.

The name; "Dwight Freshette" was also being researched through the FBI
records.

By midnight, I realized that there was nothing more I could do at the
moment and so I moved down the hall into the suite my stuff had been
transferred to and made myself a drink.

John was sitting with me while the Professor was on the telephone with
Uncle Phil who had called to assure us that the six boys and their families
had arrived safely and had all been taken home by staff members.

Uncle Phil had convinced Martha to have four or five glasses of wine and
she was now tucked away in her apartment in the main house sleeping very
soundly.

John was drinking a beer and trying very hard to bolster my spirits but the
tears welling in his eyes gave the lie to all of his bravado. After three
large glasses of scotch I'd told him that I was going to try to grab some
sleep.

An hour or so later, I had awakened up screaming.

I sipped on the glass of scotch John had just handed me and I stared at my
two friends. It was obvious just by looking at them that neither had been
to bed since early Saturday morning. I sent them across the hall to try to
sleep promising to come and wake them if there were any developments.

I stripped off my clothes and got into the shower. After soaping up I let
the steaming hot water play over me for about 10 minutes before I stepped
out and got dressed.

I walked down the hall and into the FBI command post. Normally, I probably
wouldn't have been very welcome in there but since I was paying for the
room and supplying all the food and beverages for them they didn't say
anything. The fact that I'm so damned rich probably didn't hurt either.

Agent Dunn was sitting in a chair over by the window looking out at the now
mostly dark Sports Complex.

I strolled over to the coffee maker and poured myself a cup, grabbed a
chair and pulled it over next to her.

"Don't you sleep Agent?" I asked more by way of small talk than anything
else.

"Not for a while Mr. Tucker." She replied these are the critical times I'm
afraid." My question must have been written clearly on my face because she
continued;

"Look, you're a nice guy and you certainly didn't just fall off the
Christmas tree, so let me be honest with you. Sean's kidnapping is highly
unusual in the United States. Most of the abductions here are by family
members and are about custodial issues. The second most common cause is for
some sort of sexual abuse but this particular situation seems to rule that
out because it was too well planned and...once the story breaks, too public.
Sexual deviant kidnappers as a rule choose their victims randomly and
snatch them from isolated locations.

We haven't received any communication as of yet but I'm betting that your
boy was kidnapped for ransom purposes. Your family name and well known
wealth would seem to back that up. We've got to stay alert and hope our
kidnapper doesn't get cold feet or get spooked. We've got to help him over
the crisis hump."

Again I must have looked questioningly at her.

"I don't mean to give you any more to worry about than is already on your
plate but the hard truth Mr. Tucker is that here in America, in the case of
kidnapping by a stranger, 70% of the time the victim is killed within 24
hours. During the next 48 hours, 20% are killed. After 72 hours, the odds
get much better so we've got to help our kidnapper not to find a reason to
panic right now."

I swallowed hard and nodded.

"The fact that you're known to be rich and can afford to pay an outrageous
ransom is in our favor." She looked down and noticed her coffee cup was
empty. She got up to walk over and refill it but she turned and added;

"The fact that you're known to be rich and can afford to finance "hired
guns" may not be in our favor."

She looked at me pointedly and walked over to the coffee pot.

"Hired guns?" I shook my head in confusion.

There was a sudden flurry of action at one of the tables near the wall and
a young black agent motioned us over.

"They found the van abandoned on a dirt road in the National Forest about
thirty miles from here." He said glancing at me obviously uncertain if he
should say more. Agent Dunn nodded affirmatively to him.

"Inside the van they found a used syringe and an empty vial of sodium
thiopental. That explains why the kid looks out like a light in the
video...he was.

They also..." he looked from me to his senior agent again.

"They also found the kid's swimming suit wadded up on the floor at the back
of the van."

As I was walking away from his station I overheard him saying to a
colleague;

"I hope the guy knows what he's doing with that needle. That's one of the
three drugs they use in executions. He could OD a little kid like that
easily"

 I gritted my teeth and walked down the hall hands balled in anger and
frustration when my cell phone rang.

The FBI had taken my phone and done some things with it hours earlier. I
assumed it was now synced or in some other way linked to their listening
devices.

I ran down the hall back into their command post waving my phone. Senior
Agent Dunn signaled for me to answer it.

"Hello..."

"Mr. Tucker. You're not a very nice man. You shouldn't be so rude to people
who are just looking for some information eh?"

I glanced over to the bank of agents who were signaling me to try and keep
the conversation going when he spoke as if he could see what was happening.

"Oh, I know you've got the cops and the FBI there and I know they're
working to trace this call but Mr. Tucker, I know a thing or two about
these things...probably a lot more than those guys do.

You can only ping a cell phone accurately to the tower that it's using but
Mr. Tucker...or may I call you Eric? THAT would be so much friendlier and
pleasant eh? Yes I think I shall...you see Eric; I'm talking from a very
special little phone of my own devising  that uses satellite signals  to
bounce traces from towers all over the place. You'll never find the tower
I'm actually drawing from because it looks like I'm calling from all over
the country...it's completely random!

Right now one of your agents probably thinks I'm calling from Seattle while
another has proof I'm calling from Boston. Eric, you and I could chat all
night and they wouldn't be any closer to tracing my bouncing little signal
than they are right now. This phone is untraceable so you should be nice
and tell them all to relax and eat a donut or something.

But then, you don't really want to chat with me do you? You want to get
down to business eh?"

"That's right I sure as hell do! Why did you take that boy and what do you
want?"

"Calm down Eric. You're being rude again and that's starting to annoy me."

I looked over at Agent Dunn who standing with an earphone held to one ear
signaled me to calm my temper.

"You're right." I tried to sound civil and a bit apologetic at the same
time. "What do I need to do to get my little boy back?"

"You see Eric? That wasn't so hard was it? When you're nice like that it
makes me...well it makes me want to work with you eh?"

"Yes you're right. Can...MAY I speak with Sean?...Please?"

"I'm sorry that's not possible he's...sleeping right now."

"Then...then how can I be sure you haven't hurt him?...how do I know he's
even alive?"

"I rather expected this request might come up.

I tell you what Eric... you ask me a question that only he would know the
answer to and when he wakes up, I'll call you back with his answer.

In the meantime, to keep you out of mischief, why don't you begin gathering
up ten million dollars in cash eh?

Oh... better get a pencil so you can write this down. Ready?

None of the bills is to be marked in any way. I assure you that I'll know
if they are...outsmarting the FBI with cell phones is only one of my many
talents you see,

Now, I want two million in twenty dollar bills, five million in fifties,
two and a half million in one hundred dollar bills and the final half
million in ones and fives...I don't care how you mix them up. I'll tell you
later how to package it.

Got that all Eric?"

"Yes and I know you're smart enough to realize this will take some time of
course."

"I'm not stupid Eric but I'm not foolish either.

I'm willing to be reasonable especially since today is Sunday I'll give you
until Tuesday evening let's say 6:30 eh?

Oh...did you want to ask me that question? I believe your FBI friends would
call that `Proof of Life'".

"Yes, yes... ask him...ask Sean... what do we call our favorite car?"

"Excellent I'll call back with his answer. Oh, and Eric, I'd wish you a
good night but I see the sun is just about to come up. Good morning and
Goodbye."

"Well I recognized the voice." I said to the agents. "It's definitely that
guy who posed as a reporter before the swimming meet."

"Unless he was being cute about the sunrise, I'll bet he's still in this
county. Probably in or around the city." Said Agent Dunn.

I punched Uncle Phil's number. He answered almost at once and didn't sound
groggy. I suspected he hadn't been to bed. I gave him the specifics about
the ransom cash.

"Shouldn't be too difficult Eric. We've got friends at the Federal Reserve
Bank and several of our own institutions have told me not to worry about
liquidating any assets yet...seems you have pretty damn good credit."

"Thanks Uncle Phil. Take good care of Martha she's going to be crazy with
worry when she wakes up. Oh and I've told Clay Riorden that he can call you
in the evenings and you'll keep him informed about what's going on."

"Will do. Take care of yourself Eric and know that everybody is praying for
you guys...and son...I'm sorry things ...well, I'm sorry. It's going to be all
right though."

"Thanks Uncle Phil."

I broke the connection and stared out the window. The black night sky was
turning grey with a rosy tinge at the horizon.

"A bit too early for our shower little man." I thought to myself. "I think
it's your turn to pick the music isn't it?"

I was standing in the middle of the hall weeping when Doc and John found me
and walked me back to my room.

I felt like a little boy again with my face buried in the big Professor's
chest as I cried out my despair and felt it shift to hot burning anger.

I raised my head and looked up at him and over at John.

"If he hurts him...if he hurts that boy...I'll spend every penny I've got to
track him down." I swiped the back of my hand across my eyes.

"Shit, I've got more money than a lot of countries have and I'll spend it
all to track him down and then...I'll have him brought to me...to a place of my
choosing and...I'll kill him. I'll kill him myself!"

I spun away from Doc's embrace and stalked across the room. I stood at the
fireplace and thought about a little boy sitting on a red cushion playing
guitar and singing a song. A beautiful song.

 I thought about his perfect little body that snuggled and clung to me so
warmly and willingly and I saw his stunning blue/green eyes as he
whispered; "You're the best friend I ever had in my whole life" and I knew
I just KNEW that was his way of saying "I love you".

I'd been rolling a little glass bud vase from the mantle around in my hand.
Suddenly I closed my fist around it and viciously flung it down smashing it
upon the hearth.

"Goddamitt! Goddamitt! That fuckin' son of a bitch has my SON! He's got my
SON!"

I was crying again and Doc Swaim and John closed in to hold and comfort me.

"He's not the son of my blood...he's not of my flesh. He's the son of my
soul...the son of my heart! We chose each other...we CHOSE each other!

He's my son goddamitt!"

I was sitting on the coach sobbing holding a drink that John had made for
me. Doctor Swaim was sitting next to me with his arm around my shoulders.

My throat was raw from shouting and crying

"He's my son!" I croaked almost in a whisper.

"If nothing else Eric." Doc Swaim spoke softly. "If nothing else you've
recognized that much."

*****

John had poured me my third drink. I raised it in salute.

"Here's to the breakfast of champions!" I said sarcastically

Just as I raised the glass to my lips, my cell phone sounded.

"Good Morning Eric. It looks as though it's going to be a perfect April Day
in paradise.

I called because I asked your question of our mutual little friend and he
said to tell you `the red cat'.

Does that satisfy you?"

I swallowed hard.

"Yes. Yes it does. Thank you."

"Oh Eric, you're so very welcome it's the least I can do...for ten million
dollars. Now, I'll call again sometime on Monday to see how things are
coming along...oh, and Eric, because you're cooperating so nicely, I'm
sending you a little present and PLEASE don't manhandle the delivery boy...he
won't have the slightest idea what this is about. Nice chatting with you."

"The smug son of a bitch!" I growled as I threw back my drink and held out
my glass for another.

*****

There was a lunchtime feeding frenzy going on in the command room. I'd
ordered in vast quantities of KFC and buckets of mashed potatoes, gravy,
biscuits and other side dishes.

I'd discovered that despite everything I was starving and I sat at a table
with Doc and John pigging out like the rest of them. The only way you could
have differentiated us from the FBI and Police was we were drinking beer
and they weren't.

The room phone rang and one of the agents picked it up. Placing his hand
over the mouthpiece he announced;

"The front disk says there's a kid downstairs with an envelope for Mr.
Tucker."

"Tell them to send him up." Replied Senior Agent Dunn.

The poor kid looked to be all of 17 years old it was probably his first
job...saving up money for a car or something. When the door to the room was
opened in response to his knock, he found himself staring into the barrels
of three large black Glocks all pointed at his head.

 He did the natural thing...he pissed his pants.

Feeling terrible for him, I pulled him off to the side and asked for his
trousers and boxers. I gave him a towel to wrap around himself. He complied
confused and shaken.

 While he was being interrogated in the next room by agents I had a bellhop
come up and take his wet clothing to the laundry to be washed and dried. A
generous tip ensured the task would be performed quickly.

Freshette or whoever he was had, of course, been correct. The kid just
worked weekends for the messenger service and neither he nor they could
shed any light on who had sent the envelope.

Clair Dunn had the decency to leave the room so the kid could remove the
towel and put his shorts and trousers back on with some modicum of modesty.

I handed him a hundred dollar bill and told him he'd been a good sport. He
never thanked me...he couldn't get out of there fast enough. I actually
wondered if he was going to keep the job or quit.

I opened the envelope and withdrew its contents. It was a USB memory stick
with a note that could have been printed from any computer:

 HERE'S A BONUS PROOF OF LIFE

SEE HOW YOU GET REWARDED FOR BEING POLITE?

ENJOY ERIC. YOU TOO FBI.

We plugged the memory stick into Agent Dunn's computer. It contained a
single JPEG image. It was Sean sitting naked on a cardboard box leaning
against a wall. The wall was made of wooden planks painted a deep green and
coated to a glossy finish that flared a bit in the photograph.

Sean's naked body was almost as pale as death his skin looked more grey
than flesh colored. His beautiful hair was matted and disheveled. His
eyelids looked swollen and heavy and there were dark bags and circles under
his eyes.

His eyes! His normally dancing and twinkling eyes looked flat and lifeless
and the pupils were obviously dilated.

His lips were blue or purple and his facial expression was...well it wasn't...
his face was blank like a doll's.

Next to his head tacked to the wall by a single yellow push pin was an
article obviously torn from this morning's sports page:

SEVEN SAMURAI STATE SWIMMING SWEEP

"The son of a Bitch! The sadistic son of a bitch! I'm going to find this
bastard! I swear I'm going to find him!"

But it wasn't me who found him. It was Walter.

*****

The rest of the afternoon and evening were uneventful there were no new
leads and no further phone calls from Freshette.

I placed a call to Uncle Phil who (I was glad to learn) had actually slept
about five hours during the afternoon and was now as he put it "ready for
the long haul.

"Eric, the ransom cash is all set. I'll need less than two hours to have
the entire package put together just like this creep demands. All I'll need
to know is how he wants it packaged.

As you know the story broke in the newspapers this morning about Sean being
`missing' they're still managing to keep the fact that it's a kidnapping
under wraps. Per your request I've been referring all press inquiries to
Doctor Swaim's cell phone."

I knew that was true because since about one o'clock this afternoon, the
Professor's cell phone hadn't stopped. Finally, he had changed his
voicemail message to indicate he'd be available again at ten Monday morning.

"Enough is enough!" he'd declared.

We were sitting around in my room drinking rather heavily rehashing
Saturday's events in order to try and determine if we'd missed any obvious
clues that might have provided some forewarning but try as we might the
only thing any of us could remember was the short curt "interview" with the
phony reporter Freshette and that certainly provided no indication of what
was to come.

I didn't check the clock when I finally sent them both across the hall
declaring we all needed some sleep but I know it was quite late.

I sprawled out on the bed frightened of sleep. I was certain that black
dreams of terror and grief were waiting for me but if they were, they
didn't wake me and I didn't remember them in the morning. There are some
rewards to be obtained from consuming too much alcohol.

I rolled over in bed and noticed the sky was a pale translucent grey. It
was morning another painful day had begun. My cell phone alerted me of an
incoming call.

"Good morning Eric. It's going to be another lovely day in paradise! Sorry
to be calling you so early but I've got some urgent news. Things are moving
along faster for me than I'd expected and well, I'm afraid that you're
going to have to get that money together a bit quicker than we'd just
discussed because...eh?...wait a second...What the fuck!...."

The call disconnected.

What in the hell was that all about? I wondered. I guess his "super cell
phone" dropped the call. I waited about five minutes to see if he called
back but the phone was silent.

I went into the bath room to get ready for whatever the day had in store.

I was just coming out of the shower when I heard a knock on my door.

Wrapping a towel around my waist I opened it and found Special Agent Dunn
standing there.

"Get dressed quickly." She said bluntly...no good morning...no greeting just a
command.

"We'll all catch some breakfast on the road. We're taking your van. Move
Eric!"

What the hell is going on? I wondered and then realized she'd never called
me Eric before.

I didn't think, I didn't question. I reacted.

I ran into the bedroom and threw on some jeans and a long-sleeved tee
shirt, a light jacket and hurried back out into the hall. The Professor and
John were there too looking as confused as I was.

She led us down to the hotel parking garage and when we came to the brown
rental van she held out her hand to John.

"Keys" she said "I know where we're going."

Without asking any questions John reached into his pocket and handed her
the keys. I climbed into the front passenger seat and John and the
Professor took the seats in the second row.

Once we were moving and on the road, Agent Dunn seemed to relax.

"I got the call about 45 minutes ago. It should all be over by the time we
get there. Assuming we don't make any wrong turns, we should be there in a
little under an hour."

"Excuse me Agent Dunn, but what in the hell is going on? Where are you
taking us?"

"To get Sean of course."

I think if we had been standing you could have blown the three of us over
with one breath. It was Doc who spoke first;

"I assume that you can and will provide a more detailed explanation than
that?"

She laughed. It was a deep throaty laugh and it was pleasant to hear. For
the first time I noticed that she was a rather attractive woman I guessed
in her early fourties.

Her innate femininity was not damaged or supplanted by her extreme air of
self-confidence.

"Settle back fellahs, we've got plenty of time for this tale. Let's get
some food to go and I'll do my best explain."

A few minutes later we were balancing bags of Egg McMuffins, hash browns
and large cups of hot remarkably good coffee on our laps as agent Dunn
drove on and began her story.

"It really starts with your father Eric. When your grandfather suffered
what essentially was an emotional breakdown following the death of your
grandmother, your father had the control of all of the family enterprises
thrust upon him. Fortunately, he was more than up to the task and he was in
many ways a visionary seeing possibilities that your grandfather never
imagined.

Very soon afterward he courted and married Alice Trouthe; your mother and
also the heiress to a family fortune almost as large as the Tucker's at the
time.

 It was assumed at the time that theirs was a marriage of convenience but
time quickly proved that they were two exciting and interesting people who
actually loved each other very much.  But I certainly don't have to tell
you that Eric. The fact that they were together when they were killed
speaks volumes about their close relationship.

 If your father had done nothing else, the combination of these two
families created one of the single greatest fortunes in the country but
your father was not one to settle for the status quo. He saw great
opportunities for growth globally but those were confusing troubling times
...almost every continent was politically unstable and your father realized
many of his undertakings would need to take place sub-rosa.

He recruited a capable man from the elite of the armed forces. A man
seasoned in what are now called black ops. That man of course was Walter.

Walter became the core around which your father's large and frankly secret
operation was formed. His loyalty to your family is deep and almost
fanatical Eric. Your father was like a beloved older brother to him and by
extension he feels as if you are family."

"How do you know so much about my family Agent? You're only about ten years
older than me and I've never seen you before." I interrupted.

"Just let me finish and hopefully it will all become clear to you. Let me
partially answer that though by saying that like you, I've known Walter my
whole life.

As your father's network grew in size and scope, Walter withdrew from what
we might euphemistically call "field operations" to take on a more central
role and with that the important responsibility of your family's security.
In that regard he has done a remarkable job.

You've never in your life stopped to wonder why you've all ways felt so
safe...so free from real danger have you?

You've grown up feeling secure and protected by the fence and gate around
your estate never once stopping to think what pitifully inadequate
fortification they actually provided.

You've blissfully regarded your safety and freedom from danger as a
birthright...a bonus that came with your wealth but that safety that sense of
security really came to you through the diligence of Walter and his people.

I'm not putting you down Eric. You've grown up the way your father wanted
it. At this point in your life, he would have probably begun to explain
everything to you...to be phasing you in... but he of course couldn't foresee
his own untimely death.

That duty then fell to Phillip Regent who you call "Uncle Phil' but
following the deaths of your family members you became so emotionally
unstable that it wasn't deemed safe or proper to reveal the truth behind
your family affairs yet.

This kid Sean seems to have changed all of that for you and Walter and
Phillip had been planning to slowly tell you all of the things you need to
know.

Nobody saw this thing happening I'll tell you. This guy is such a whack job
that he slipped right under the radar. That's never happened before and
will never happen again.

In short Eric, while you've known for a long time that you are one of the
richest men in the world, what you haven't known is that you are secretly
one of the most powerful. Walter and Phillip were preparing to reveal to
you that you. In many ways, Eric you are a nation unto yourself."

She paused to let this entire sink in and to take a sip from her coffee.

"Shit!" she growled. "I've been talking so much it's gotten cold. I hate
cold coffee."

"Here, this one still has the cap on it. It's still hot." Said John passing
a cardboard cup up from the back seat.

"Thanks" she said quickly glancing backward to smile at him.

"If family security is so tight, how are we here?" asked John indicating
himself and the professor.

"Oh, you were both thoroughly checked out I promise you!" Agent Dunn said
with a chuckle. "Eric's father liked you both he really did but that
doesn't mean he took either of you at face value. You guys only became
family when it was determined that you were each the real deal."

"Agent Dunn..." I cut in.

"Probably time you called me Clair." She responded.

"Clair then, for the moment, let's jump ahead to the here and now. What's
going on?"

"Fair enough.

So for now let's end the history lesson. As I said, this guy came flying in
right under the radar and caught everybody off guard. That doesn't make him
particularly clever... more lucky than anything else.

In a way, we're fortunate that Walter was up here with you all when the
snatch took place...oh the outcome would have been the same but that made it
quicker.

Walter chose to go back out into the field for this one because he took it
personally.

It wasn't all that hard to crack. The guy's first mistake was leaving that
press pass behind. To tell you guys the truth, I don't know if he even
realized he'd lost it. We're guessing Sean tore it off him in the initial
struggle before he drugged the little guy.

Well the prints we lifted off of it got run through the organization's data
base.  Just for your information Eric, your organization's private data
base of finger prints and DNA records is considerably larger than the FBI's
or anyone else's for that matter. They came up with a match pretty quick;
guy by the name of Dieter Kleinefrische the son of German immigrants, born
and raised in this country...a guy with a real chip on his shoulder his whole
life and a particular resentment against anybody who had an "easy life"...no,
not against you at first Eric...he had a hard on against the NEST Kids.

Their forced prostitution didn't seem to bother him a bit instead he
resented their "spoiled" upbringing and the "easy road to success" they
were handed after just a few years of sexual submission. The guy's a real
sicko.

By the way, in case you didn't pick up on it the guy's fake name is pretty
cute..."Kleinefrische" in German essentially means "little fresh"
so..."Freshette" clever no?

Anyhow, "Wolfman", Walter's longtime director of special projects was able
to find out a lot about this guy in a very short time. He was pretty clever
with electronics and his little trick with his cell phone was particularly
cute. Unfortunately for him, one of our own people had invented the
technique several years before him and we know how to get past it.

He's also worked for a while as a nurse's aide which is where he learned
about using a hypodermic needle and we suppose about his knock out drug.

For the past two years he worked for the Academy or should I call it THE
NEST in the IT department. That is probably where he found out about your
exceptionally long and unusual contract for the services of Sean and that
probably is how he set his sights on you.

Cutting to the chase, "Wolfman" and a team of specialists were able to
determine right after the first call that he was holed up someplace in the
National Forest north of the city. They knew that because of the nature of
the satellite technology he was tapping into, that it had to be generating
from a higher elevation.

At first they were thinking a cabin in the mountains or even a tree house.

Then he made the mistake of sending that picture yesterday. One of the team
recognized the glossy green paint on the wall behind Sean and realized it
was the standard color used by the Forest Service in virtually all of its
buildings.

A quick check confirmed that there is a still functioning forest fire
lookout tower in the Forest but that it is only manned during the summer.
Bingo! He's holding Sean up in the "Cab"...that's the shelter at the top of
the tower.

I was flabbergasted. Doc Swaim asked a question that I had been about to;

"Agent...Clair, how did this organization of Walter's have access to all of
the information that the FBI and Police had gathered?"

She smiled and said;

"They have connections in the FBI too Professor."

I realized just then that we'd been driving through the National Forest for
some time now and shortly, she turned the van onto a dirt road and we drove
for about ten miles before a short stocky man stepped out onto the road and
signaled us to stop. He was dressed in green camouflage. He wore wire
rimmed eyeglasses that looked like glass buttons on a face that seemed at
first to be all beard and long uncombed hair.

 He walked up to my window and indicated I should lower it. I glanced at
Clair and she nodded so I pushed the button and let the glass slide down
into the door.

He leaned into the van and looked past me speaking directly to Clair;

"These two envelopes have all the evidence you'll need to make this case
clean as a whistle." He passed two large thick manila envelopes through the
window.

"It's up ahead about a half a mile the clearing is to your right. You might
as well give me a lift."

He slid the sliding door opened and without comment got in causing John to
slide over to make room.

As Clair started the van rolling again she said;

"Eric Tucker, say hello to Wolfman." He leaned over the seat and offered
his hand to me. I took it and he said;

"It's nice to finally shake your hand Eric. You and me we've had a kinda
long distance relationship!" I didn't get a chance to even think of a reply
before he turned to the driver."How the heck are you Honey?"

Clair turned around to him smiling broadly and said;

"I'm just fine Dad. You still coming over for dinner on Wednesday?" She
winked at me as we turned into the clearing.

The steel tower loomed above the tree tops. It was about five or six
hundred feet tall.

These towers had once been the first line of defense in detecting forest
fires but over time had been phased out...replaced by supposedly superior
technology.

In recent years people were beginning to realize that the trained human eye
was still the best first alert and more and more previously abandoned
towers were being refurbished and manned.

As we all walked toward it "Wolfman" whose real name turned out to be
Barney told us that four of them including Walter had crept into the
clearing under cover of darkness and had staged themselves strategically
under the tower where they couldn't be seen from the "cab" at the top.

As dawn broke Walter alone carefully climbed the 230 stairs to the top. He
took the bastard completely by surprise while he was in the middle of
making a cell phone call.

I nodded realizing that call had been the one I'd received this morning and
I had unknowingly overheard Walter's asault into the shelter.

"Did you get the son of a bitch?" I asked.

"Oh, we got him all right. He's over there with Barry." He indicated a man
in camouflage standing across the clearing about fifty yards from us.

As we approached, a stunning recognition came upon me...Barry...this was the
same young man who had served as flight attendant both times I'd flown with
Sean.  He smiled at me.

"Hello again Mr. Turner. Right over behind those bushes.' He pointed and I
walked to the place he indicated.

Lying sprawled upon the ground lay a man. His arms and legs were twisted at
angles no human limbs bend.

He was laying on his side but his head was twisted around to the point of
almost facing out from his back. I recognized the brown sports jacket he
was wearing and I knew the face despite the grimace of death...I knew that
face and I knew those yellow teeth.

I turned to Barry and Wolfman my expression served as my question.

"He tripped and fell.' Wolfman said dryly, "He was way up there out on the
observation deck and he tripped and fell. We saw it from here didn't we
Barry?"

"Yes sir." The younger man responded. "He just...tripped and fell...it was the
damnedest thing."

"What you're looking for is right under those trees over there." Wolfman
pointed.

I walked across the clearing and saw them at once.

Walter was sitting on a fallen tree trunk cradling in his arms a small
bundle wrapped in a blanket. He was slowly rocking back and forth and I
could swear I heard him singing softly.

I would later find out that Walter had climbed to the top of the tower and
spied Freshette or Kleinefrische whatever his name was as he was making a
cell phone call. The struggle was quick and one sided Walter may be 67
years old but he was in extraordinary physical shape and had been trained
in all manner of martial arts.

Only much later did he admit to me that he had dragged the screaming man
out onto the observation deck and hurled him head first over the side.

"I don't apologize and I don't try to justify." He had told me matter of
factly. "The man needed to die and I made certain that he did."

Sean was huddled unconscious in a corner naked and almost blue. Walter
wrapped the little boy in the one blanket that he found and carried him
down the tower.

He had been sitting cradling the child like that until I came up to them.

Walter heard my footfall and looked up. There were tears in his eyes. In my
entire life at had only seen Walter cry once and that was when we buried my
family.

"He's alive Eric. He's alive but he needs to get to a hospital real bad.
The fucker's got him so full of those drugs he..." he shook his head as if in
denial of what he had been about to say. Instead he lowered his head and
kissed the forehead of the little boy he cradled so tenderly.

"He'll be all right. He's got the soul of an angel but he's got the heart
of a lion."

Through blurry eyes I looked across the clearing and saw the lights of the
private EMT vehicle that had just pulled in.

"The heart of I lion" I muttered. "My son has the heart of a lion".

(to be continued)

Well...I hope that wasn't too much to read. I wanted to do it all in one
chapter but I didn't want to leave out too many details. Hopefully this has
answered some of your questions. Next time we deal with healing...of all
sorts.

Thanks for all of your Emails. The kidnapping certainly got a lot of you
going I hope this chapter has calmed you down a bit.  As you all know this
is my first story so forgive me if I sometimes get too long winded.