Chapter 2

He'd planned the adventure in his usual methodical way. The capture was to happen in a large city in which he wasn't known. He'd prepared an identity for just this venture. He'd bought a nondescript car, a year-old rental vehicle, and modified it to suit his needs. He'd rented a rather large suite in a similarly nondescript industrial park and proceeded to modify that as well.

Richard made sure to meet the neighbours who ran businesses in the industrial mall. He explained to them that, since he dealt in rather rare rugs and textiles, he was using his suite primarily for storage and the occasional client who came to make a selection. Consequently, they'd seldom see him. Since he'd rarely be there, he asked for their help. He gave each of them a card with a cell phone number on it and asked that they call him if they should see anything strange going on near his suite.

There was a parking garage about a block and a half from the industrial park. Richard rented a space there, paying several months in advance. The home address he gave the parking attendant was about a mile from the garage. It was an abandoned house. Richard explained to the attendant that he might need to leave his car in the garage for fairly long periods of time because he felt it would be safer there than parked in his driveway. His arrangements completed, Richard went hunting.

He drove around for a few days without success. Either the hunting wasn't good or an attack would be too conspicuous. Then fate intervened. On Friday, the transit union called a wildcat strike. Millions of commuters went to work that day unaware that they'd have no way to get home: no subway, streetcars or buses.

The union called the strike at noon. If it had been called in the morning, the traffic would have been unimaginable. Many people who usually took public transit would have elected to drive instead. As it was, the only extra cars on the road were taxis. It seemed that every taxi driver on a day off had decided to work. But the traffic as a whole wasn't much worse than a usual Friday rush hour. Which was to say, terrible but manageable.

In addition to the cabs, there were more bicycles than normal on the road. Richard hated cyclists. He saw them as pests. As he was passing one of them, he jerked the wheel, not enough to hit the guy, just enough to scare the hell out of him. The cyclist swerved wildly, back and forth. His front tire hit the curb, and he lost control. Richard smiled as he saw the bicycle and its rider disappear under a truck. It was a good start to the day.

Richard drove around the centre of the city: the financial district. Ordinarily, many of the workers from the stock exchange, the big banks and associated enterprises, would have been on their way to Union Station to catch their connections. This day, there were no connections. Nothing was running from the station except the trains to other cities. There were thousands of commuters milling about looking for a cab, a familiar face or they knew not what. To make matters worse, the temperature was sweltering. Richard didn't care. His ex-rental car had excellent air conditioning and a full tank of gas.

It didn't take long for Richard to spot her. She was a tall brunette with a very attractive face. Her business suit didn't fit tightly enough to reveal all of her figure, but it appeared that she was small-breasted. He guessed her age at early to mid twenties. She was standing at the intersection looking about with a vacant look in her eyes. She looked lost. Richard stopped his car in front of her. He lowered the passenger-side window and smiled at her disarmingly. "Hop in," he said.

She bent over and smiled back at him. "No thanks," she said.

Richard took his hand out of his pocket, revealing his gun. "You don't understand," he said, "that wasn't a suggestion. It was a command. Now get in." He pointed the gun in her direction. She stood there for a moment like a deer caught in the headlights. "If you yell or run, I will shoot you," he said, "and I will calmly drive away. In this chaos, I'll never be found. You'll be dead and for no reason. Get in the car." She reached for the door handle. As she opened the door, she ducked down behind it.

Richard had been ready for just such a manoeuvre. He fired the blank pistol in his other hand. A few people looked around, didn't find the source of the noise, and returned to their search for transportation.

"That one missed," he said, his voice level and calm. "It missed on purpose. The next one won't. This pistol is powerful enough to shoot through that door. Get in the car or die. It's your choice."

The door opened wider, and she appeared above the window sill. She got in the car and sat in the passenger seat. "That's better," Richard said. "Don't forget to fasten your seat belt."

The light changed, and he drove away. "Sit up, and put your arms by your sides," he said. The woman did as he commanded.

Richard pushed a button on the console. Loops extended from the seat and quickly secured her arms. She struggled and found herself unable to move her upper body more than a fraction of an inch in any direction. Her breathing became fast and shallow. She was clearly in a state of panic.

While Richard found this amusing, he didn't want it to get out of hand. He still had quite a distance to go without being noticed. Someone might remember seeing a panicky, screaming woman. At the next red light, Richard reached into the console pocket for the syringe he'd prepared. He raised her skirt to expose more of the fleshy part of her thigh. His cock twitched as he saw the newly revealed skin. He drove the syringe home and pushed the plunger to complete the injection. The syringe went back into the pocket.