terrorism – The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi

Educating Jonathan – Part Six

Two hungry tigers loom in the distance, meticulously stalking their prey. A wounded animal lies on the grass, unable to move and paralyzed with fear. The animal knows its time on Earth is short. He senses his imminent death. Too many times in his life he’s witnessed small creatures like himself helplessly stave off death for as long as possible, only to be disappointed at the end.

Nature is a cruel place. The strong will inevitably triumph over the weak. There is no feeling of injustice or bitterness, however. This is a fact of life. This is how it is. This is how it’s always been. From the beginning of civilization to this present moment, the strong always find a way to destroy the feeble. Even if he could change things, the wounded animal would choose not to and let the course of history continue uninterrupted.

The tigers come closer. He hears a rattling in the bushes. The animal looks down at his bloodied torso and notices his legs are missing. They’re probably hundreds of yards away, being chewed on by vultures with little thought to who they belong to. The vultures don’t care. The tigers don’t care. Even his family doesn’t care. They’ve accepted the fact one of their own will be eaten soon. They secretly wish they aren’t next.

The time has come. The tigers jump on the wounded animal. They tear him piece by piece in the most savage way possible. There is no such thing as a dignified death in the Jungle. Any death is treated the same way. It just happens. Fortunately for those who are strong enough to survive, they don’t have to experience the agonizing pain that comes with death. They can sit back and watch with nihilistic pleasure.

With his dying breath, the wounded animal cries out in pain. It’s a useless expression of suffering, one that will not deter the two tigers from carrying out future massacres. But it’s all he can do. What else is left?

What a beautiful fucking world we live in.

Jonathan opens his eyes and instantly forgets what he was dreaming about. Something about two tigers eating a hapless meerkat? Or was it something more pleasant? No matter. That’s irrelevant right now. He sits up, stretches, and takes notice of how sore he is. That’s what he gets from sleeping on a cold, hard wood floor. The room is still dark. There is no sunlight anywhere to be seen. Silence permeates everywhere. Normally, he’d feel at peace right now. But not today.

Fuck. It wasn’t a dream. Last night wasn’t a nightmare. It’s reality. It’s really real. It happened exactly as he remembers it. And he is powerless to make any of it go away.

He looks behind him and sees Dr. Samantha and Mistress Nguvu cuddled together on the floor. They are also sleeping. Jonathan doesn’t know exactly when they fell asleep, but it couldn’t have been much longer after he did. They were all tired. Physically and emotionally exhausted. How could you not be after experiencing all that?

A pounding on the steel door wakes up everybody. Jonathan leaps to his feet. Dr. Samantha and Mistress Nguvu open their weary eyes and take a look at their surroundings. They too also wish the events of last night never occurred. They are both sorely disappointed.

The Short Man enters the room with two of his henchmen. They appear to be still dressed in the same black clothing as the night before. One of the men carries in a pot of coffee. The other has a plastic tray full of bagels, doughnuts, fruit, and pastries. Well, at least these bastards are courteous enough to bring their hostages breakfast.

“Good morning. Or perhaps, I should say good afternoon. It’s a quarter past noon. We let you sleep for a pretty long time,” the Short Man says. “You should thank us.”

The two men place the food and coffee on the carpenter’s table. The third man is still standing outside. Dr. Samantha and Mistress Nguvu get on their feet and glare at the Short Man.

“Go fuck yourself,” Dr. Sammy says. The Short Man gives Jonathan a quick look. Jonathan doesn’t know how to react.

“Women can be so erratic at times, am I right Jonathan?” Upon hearing his captor say his name out loud for the first time, Jonathan refuses to acknowledge his presence. In fact, he agrees that he should go fuck himself. It’s the only thing he could do right.

“Oh well. I don’t exactly expect politeness from any of you. If the situations were reversed, I’d probably say some pretty uncomplimentary things as well,” he says. “As you can see, we’ve brought you breakfast. Don’t worry. Nothing is poisoned. You’re worth more to me alive than dead. So chow down. Enjoy your lunch.”

Nobody moves from their spot.

“Have you heard from my husband? What did he say?” Dr. Sammy asks.

“He said he’s willing to be cooperative. Which bodes well for the rest of you. Soon, we’ll have what we want and you three will be allowed to continue your lives free of danger from us. Sound good?” The Short Man motions for the two henchmen to leave. They promptly exit the room and walk upstairs. Jonathan notices a side door in the hallway that he did not see the previous night.

“Matthew agreed to do what you want him to do?”

“Yes, he did.” The Short Man takes out a cigarette and lights it. He blows a small puff of smoke toward Jonathan’s direction. “I also spoke with my Boss. He’s a very reasonable man. I told him that our kidnapping plot is going just as we planned. He sounded happy. But he also had a hint of intrigue in his voice. I didn’t know why, but now I do.”

The Short Man pauses for dramatic effect. Jonathan’s stomach growls with hunger, but he does his best to get his mind off of food.

“I told him we unexpectedly took two additional hostages. He was okay with that, but mostly wanted to make sure we had the wife in our possession,” he says, puffing more smoke out of his mouth. “However, our Boss decided to call us again this morning. Part of the reason why I’m here is to deliver to you your coffee and munchies. Nobody ever goes hungry under my watch. But…I’ve come here for another reason.”

“And what reason is that?” Mistress Nguvu asks. She takes a bold step forward. The Short Man doesn’t flinch. The man standing guard outside the door doesn’t reach for his gun. They both know the three hostages are smart enough to not do anything foolish.

“The reason involves you two.” The Short Man points at both Jonathan and the Mistress. “My Boss is particularly interested in you two. He wants to learn more. I don’t know exactly why, but I can assure you only positive outcomes will result from all of this. For him, of course. Follow me, please.”

The Short Man turns around and walks out the door. Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu look at each other. Then they look at Dr. Samantha. She nods her head, silently telling them to follow the Short Man to whatever fate lies ahead. Reluctantly, Jonathan and the Mistress walk out the door. The guard shuts it behind them, locking Dr. Sammy in all alone.

Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu walk up a short flight of stairs. Upstairs, the Short Man and his two cohorts have set up camp in a spacious lounge area. Peach yellow wallpaper adorns the room. Like all the other rooms in this God-forsaken building, it is sparsely decorated. Hostage-takers apparently have no interior decorating taste.

The Short Man is talking to someone through a laptop computer. Skype, perhaps? Or a different web communication platform used by shadowy global terrorists?

“Here they are, sir. Both of them. I’ll turn around my computer so you can take a good look at them.” The Short Man rotates his computer so Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu can see who is on the screen. It is an older Mediterranean-looking man with silver hair, a trim beard, dark eyes, and an impeccable tan. When he finally is able to see the two hostages standing in front of him, his eyes widen with sudden and irrepressible lust.

“Oh my fucking God. Ma’am, may I ask you a question?” Mistress Nguvu sighs and nods her head in agreement. The Boss squeals in delight. “How big are you?”

“I’m six foot four.”

The Boss’s eyes widen even more, as if that were even possible. “Delightful! And how much do you weigh? I realize that’s a personal question to ask, but I’m sure you’d be thrilled to inform me!”

“I weight about two hundred and fifty pounds.”

“Wow! Six-four, two hundred and fifty pounds. You are a big girl. I love it. Fuck. Look at you! You have so much muscle from head to toe. Stand back a little, darling.” Annoyed at his patronizing tone, Mistress Nguvu takes a giant step backward. The Boss giggles when he sees more of the Mistress’s muscular body. “I love it! Now, you. Boy. Take step toward me, please.”

Jonathan’s heartrate jumps. He does as he’s told. “You also look like you work out, my boy. Do you?”

“Yes, I do. I’m no bodybuilder, unlike the Mistress here, but I do what I can to look good.”

“Ooh, yes. You do, indeed. Alright. Both of you, get naked. Now! Strip all your clothes for me.” Jonathan and the Mistress stay still. One of the henchmen takes out his gun and points it at their direction. This inspires them to get started. As Jonathan and Nguvu remove all their clothing, they can hear the Boss moaning with delight, as if he were masturbating while watching them strip. Mistress Nguvu drops her corset, panties, and bra to the floor. Jonathan kicks his shirt, gym shorts, and underwear to the side. They stare directly at the computer screen and see exactly what they suspected they were hearing. The Boss is in fact masturbating.

“Oh, fuck yes!” Nobody can see it, but the Boss is clearly jerking himself off at the sight of these two naked people standing before him. Jonathan turns his head away in disgust. He sees Mistress Nguvu’s naked muscular body and quickly becomes distracted by it. Tall, thick, angular, curvy in all the right places, Jonathan notices two remarkable features of her divine body: Hard black nipples that stick out nearly a full inch and a breathtaking clitoris that extends more than three inches outward. Even the Short Man and the henchmen cannot help but stare at Nguvu’s incredible features. The sight of her jaw-dropping feminine endowment gives Jonathan a slight erection. His penis coming to life is enough to send the Boss over the edge.

“Motherfucker! FUCK!!!”

The Boss comes, groaning as he ejaculates all over himself. Thankfully, nobody in the room can see what that looks like. The Short Man turns away, not wanting to witness any of this. The two henchmen are weirded out, but try to remain calm and professional. They do not want to anger their Boss in anyway. The consequences of that would be disastrous.

“Oooooh, yes. Oh baby. That’s what I like. Jerry!” The Short Man, whose name is apparently Jerry, regains his composure and leans toward the computer’s microphone.

“Yes, sir?”

“At first I was pissed off that you decided to take two extra hostages. But now I see you made the right decision. Call it fate or good luck, but I want to personally meet these two. Send them to the airport immediately. I will order a private jet to transport them to my home. Do it NOW!” The Boss turns off the web chat and the screen goes dark. The man with the gun lowers his weapon and puts it back in his jacket. Jerry takes a deep breath and tries to think of a contingency plan. Transporting two of his hostages to the airport was not part of his original plan. That means his team has to split up. One has to stay here to watch over Dr. Samantha and the others have to escort the other two to a different destination.

Fuck. But if the Boss says this must be done, then it must be done. Jerry and his crew are accustomed to adjusting their plans on the fly, but that doesn’t mean they have to like it.

“Wow. Well, you heard the man. Let’s get going,” Jerry says. “Get dressed. Now.”

Ten minutes later, Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu are escorted back to the dark red SUV. As they pass the door where they were locked up for the night, Nguvu stops and looks at it. She wants to say something to Dr. Samantha. She wants to assure her she and Jonathan will be alright. She wants her to know they’ll both be safe. One of the henchmen grabs Nguvu’s broad shoulders and nudges her toward the parking garage. Jonathan doesn’t offer any resistance.

He thinks about Dr. Samantha too, but doesn’t feel any urge to speak to her. Somehow, for whatever inexplicable reason, he senses she’ll be just fine. Her husband will deliver the x-ray machine and she’ll be secure in his arms soon after. Yes, these people will turn it into a radioactive bomb, but Jonathan doesn’t have the inclination right now to think about that. He still wants to know why the Boss wants to see both he and the Mistress so badly.

Like the ride over to the mystery building, Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu are forced to wear blindfolds. They even put it on themselves. Two hours later, Jonathan can hear the sounds of airplanes landing and taking off for flight. The airport is obviously nearby.

Soon, the SUV stops and the driver shuts off the ignition. A voice instructs them to get out of the car. Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu do as they’re told.

One of the henchmen grabs the blindfolds and hands them to Jerry. The Short Man puts them in his inner coat pocket.

“We’re here. I have no fucking idea why the Boss wants to personally see you two, but for whatever shitty reason he does. Enjoy the flight, fuckers.” Jonathan and Nguvu struggle to adjust their eyes to broad daylight. A few moments later, they peer upwards at a small white twin engine jet. There are no logos anywhere to be seen. A short Hispanic woman walks out of the plane and greets her passengers.

“Good day to you both. If you’ll please follow me inside, our flight will take off as soon as possible. The weather looks fabulous, so I fully expect us to be able to leave without too long of a wait.” Wearing a professional flight stewardess’s outfit, the woman goes back inside the plane. Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu look back at Jerry and his henchmen. They stare right back at them, urging them to board the jet. The two passengers walk up the stairs with no questions asked. The Hispanic woman shuts the door behind them.

“Sit anywhere you like. The Boss will be pleased to see you both. He’s very excited about this meeting. If you need anything from me, just push the green button next to your seats,” the short woman says. “I’ll be by with snacks and drinks shortly after we cruise to 30,000 feet.”

A private white jet preparing for takeoff.

Still in a daze that hasn’t left since last night, Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu choose random seats and sit down. They buckle their seatbelts and stare out the window. Jerry and his henchmen have already driven off. A faint cloud of exhaust is the only indication of their presence at this airstrip.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” Jonathan asks the stewardess. She turns around.

“Yes?”

“How long is this flight, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Nguvu leans forward to hear her answer. The engines start to rumble. The stewardess is right. They do plan to take off right away.

“If we leave immediately, we should be able to get to our destination in nine hours,” she says. “The Caribbean islands are pretty far away, after all.”

The stewardess leaves. Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu can do nothing but sit there in stunned silence. Before either of them could blink, the jet slowly starts to move forward and within minutes they begin their ascent.

Educating Jonathan – Part Five

This is Jay Fuchs. There is no reason to post a picture of her, but I don't need one! — This is Jay Fuchs. There is no reason to post a picture of her, but I don’t need one!

For the next sixty minutes, the passengers inside the dark red SUV remain silent.

The ride to their final destination proceeds without anybody speaking a single word. None of the three hostages make a sound. The two hostage-takers also choose to not engage in conversation. It is an uncomfortable silence, but one that everyone mutually agrees to adhere to.

Dr. Samantha, who is furiously trying to figure out why these four armed men are targeting her specifically, is too frightened to cry. She struggles to breathe even though she is no longer wearing the clown mask. Mistress Nguvu thinks about whether she will die tonight. Jonathan tries to be upbeat about their situation, but resigns to the fact that their captors hold all the decision-making power.

Sixty minutes may have passed. Or maybe it’s seventy minutes. Or ninety. Or fifteen. Regardless, time ceases to exist. Jonathan guesses they’re heading south, judging from the movements of the vehicle. He knows for a fact they’re on the freeway. There shouldn’t be any traffic on the highway at this time, so they must be travelling at 70 or 80 miles per hour. Everyone speeds at this hour in the morning.

Finally, the SUV exits the freeway and they begin to drive at a slower pace. A few twists and turns later, the SUV finally comes to a complete stop. Then it moves again. Then it stops. Then it moves again. They must be taking side streets. Are they driving through a residential neighborhood? Or are they moving through a business district? The answer is anyone’s guess.

Eventually the SUV comes to a stop and the driver turns off the ignition. This indicates they’ve arrived at their destination.

“We’re here,” the driver announces. The two men leave the car and talk to the other two men, who have presumably also parked as well. Jonathan cannot hear what they are saying. Samantha breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry about all of this.”

Mistress Nguvu leans over to Dr. Samantha and brushes her head against her shoulder.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. Whatever happens to us, it’s not your fault. It’s their fault. Understand?” Jonathan cannot see, but he senses Dr. Sammy nodding in agreement. He hopes she doesn’t feel too much guilt about their predicament. The Mistress is right. This isn’t her fault.

One of the men comes by and opens the passenger door. “Time to take off your blindfolds. If any of you make any sudden moves, you won’t be making any moves ever again, got it?” The three hostages provide weak audible responses.

“Good. I’m glad we’re all choosing to be so cooperative.” The man reaches over and removes the blindfolds of Jonathan, Dr. Samantha and Mistress Nguvu. He instructs the three to get out of the car. Jonathan leaves first and looks around at their new surroundings. It’s a small concrete underground parking garage. It looks more cramped than the one underneath his apartment building. A foul odor greets him as he moves to the side to give Samantha and the Mistress room to leave the vehicle. After all three are out in the open, the Short Man approaches them with a wide smile on his face.

The gorgeous Brazilian female bodybuilder Flavia Crisos.

“I trust the ride was comfortable?” He smirks. Mistress Nguvu wants to punch him in the face, but wisely declines after seeing the other three men pointing their guns at their heads.

“Never mind that. Follow me. I’m pleased by how dutiful all of you have been in following my instructions. I have no complaints,” he says. “Fear can be a powerful motivator, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is. You obviously know how to utilize it to your advantage,” Jonathan says. The two women suddenly look at him. Why the hell is he making polite conversation with their captors? Is he out of his mind?

“Yes I do. Come.” The Short Man leads them through a creaky steel door and down a dark and long hallway. There are no windows anywhere. No art on the walls. The paint is starting to chip on the ceiling. A row of dim lightbulbs hang from above, doing their best to illuminate the entire hall. At the end of the corridor is another steel door. One of the armed men opens it and stands guard. The Short Man leads the other two into the room. Inside are three wooden chairs, a small carpenter’s table with nothing on it, a bookshelf with only a small handful of books on it, a toilet, no sink, an old black sofa collecting dust, and absolutely no windows of any sort. After everyone enters the room, the Short Man shows no indication he wants anyone to sit down. All three hostages stay standing.

“Anyone wondering why you’re all here?” the Short Man asks. He looks at all three captives and knows none of them will guess accurately. Satisfied with the level of fear he’s instilled in the three of them, he answers his question for them.

“I’m sure that question has crossed your minds once or twice this evening. Dr. Samantha.”

Everyone in the room turns to face her. Dr. Sammy isn’t crying, but appears to be on the verge of breaking down in tears. Her inner strength will face the ultimate test tonight.

“What?”

“Why do you think you’re all here? Any idea?”

Dr. Samantha lets out a sigh and bows her head. “No idea at all,” she says. The considerable weight of guilt bearing down on her soul breaks Jonathan’s heart. Mistress Nguvu stands tall and proud, defiantly supporting her long-time friend during this ordeal.

“Really? That’s surprising. Well, here’s the reason why. Your husband, Dr. Matthew Prescott, is the head neurosurgeon at East Wellspring Hospital, right?” Dr. Samantha’s ears perk up. She nods. “Of course he is. He’s without a doubt the most respected employee at that hospital, wouldn’t you say?”

She nods again in agreement. The Short Man’s insistence on tormenting his prisoners by asking endless rhetorical questions annoys both Jonathan and the Mistress.

“So respected, he could literally walk into a restricted zone with no questions asked, am I right?” Dr. Samantha’s patience has worn thin. She bursts out of anger.

“Yes, goddamn it! He practically owns the fucking place. What’s your fucking point, asshole?!” The men with guns laugh at her unexpected display of passion. The Short Man doesn’t blink but glares at his colleagues. They cease their laughter.

“Take it easy there, sweetheart. My point is simple. Every hospital has radiological material stored within it for x-rays, ultrasounds, MRIs, and things like that. Devices containing poisonous radioactive chemicals like cesium-137 are usually stored in a secure location. But he’d be able to access such things, given his prestige at the institution. Do you get my meaning?” Dr. Samantha thinks for a moment to connect the dots. After a brief pause, she nods her head again.

“Yes, I think I do. You want him to steal some of these radioactive devices for you. So you’ve kidnapped me and holding me for ransom. If he doesn’t cooperate or if he notifies the police, you’ll kill us. Am I getting warmer?” The Short Man laughs heartily. The other men smile but do not make any sound.

“Bingo! We want these materials so we can make a bomb. A dirty bomb. Believe it or not, but we’re kind of a big deal in the underground black market. Pretty big deal. Am I right, boys?”

“Hell yeah, sir!” one man responds.

“Fuck yes!” the other one shouts out.

“Yes, we are. We’re not terrorists, but we deal primarily with terrorists. And drug kingpins. And human traffickers. And organized crime syndicates. And third-world dictators facing international sanctions. You know, those kinds of people. The kind of people your media teaches you to hate. You probably don’t like us very much, do you?” The three hostages proudly stay quiet. The short man knows he’s said enough. They get it now. They know why they’re in this mess. It’s now time to break off this conversation and leave them be.

“I thought so. Well, I shall be off. I have several phone calls to make. Including one to your husband, naturally. There’s an armed guard standing outside this door. If any of you attempt to escape, expect a bullet to be lodged inside your fucking skulls. Got it?” Not expecting an answer, the Short Man and his two cohorts breeze out of the room. The door is locked. The fourth man is still standing at guard. Dr. Samantha, Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu are left there, stunned and stupefied. When will this nightmare end? Will there be a clean way out of this?

Dr. Samantha drops to her knees. She doesn’t cry because she doesn’t have any tears left to shed. Mistress Nguvu squats down to comfort her. Jonathan slumps down on one of the wooden chairs and stares at the steel door in exasperated silence.

For what seems like forever, none of them speak. What is there to say?

A sense of disgust grows within Dr. Samantha’s body. Obviously, these men specifically targeted her and her husband. They must have researched countless hospitals, doctors, and doctor’s wives to pinpoint who would make the most logical target. Much to her horror, she and Matthew are the unlucky participants. She feels even more wretched that the Mistress and Jonathan had to also get involved.

“Don’t worry, baby. Your husband will do the right thing. Nothing is going to happen to us,” Mistress Nguvu says. She knows her words will ring hollow, but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t attempt to comfort her friend. Jonathan decides now is the time to chime in.

This is what the interrogation room would look like.

“There’s nothing we can do right now. What’s about to happen is about to happen. We’re powerless to change the course of events. That sounds hopeless, but it is what it is.” Defeated, Jonathan falls to the floor and covers his face with his hands. He cannot remember the last time he ever cried, but now would be an understandable time to do so. Instead, he lies there and attempts to rationalize to himself how everything will turn out okay at the end.

Jonathan struggles to come up with a plausible reason.

In another room on the floor above, the Short Man picks up a cell phone and calls the home of Dr. Matthew Prescott. The time is near 4:00 in the morning, so he should be sleeping. Whether he went to bed wondering where his wife could possibly be is a question he is about to have answered.

The neurosurgeon picks up the phone. Groggy and grumpy, he inquires who would be so rude as to call someone at this inconvenient hour. The Short Man explains calmly the situation his wife is currently facing. The doctor’s demeanor is surprisingly level-headed and rational. The hostage-taker lays out his deal: By midnight tonight, he must deliver to a certain address a portable x-ray generator machine to a man driving a black sedan. He will deliver the goods, and after an inspection of the device that (hopefully) leads to the approval by the inspector, the doctor will be given a second address to drive to. There, he will find his wife and her two friends waiting for him, unharmed if all goes well. If anything doesn’t go well, he may never see her ever again. Her friends will also suffer a similar fate.

Inside, the doctor is fuming with rage and uncontrollable fear. But on the surface, he appears gentle and accommodating. He agrees to the man’s terms and hangs up the phone. Dr. Matthew Prescott punches a wall and throws a wine glass across the room. The Short Man leans back in his chair and grins with joyful self-satisfaction. He instructs one of the men to contact their boss and inform him the good doctor is willing to be compliant. The phone call is made. The boss expresses his gratitude to his underlings. The Short Man suggests they open a bottle of champagne and celebrate this crucial first step to creating a bomb that will be the envy of scum everywhere on planet Earth.

Imagine the payment that will come with selling a weapon of mass destruction. Rich drug cartels and apocalyptic terrorists have plenty of cash to go around. The men drink to their health and their future success.

Meanwhile, the three hostages still have not started any conversation. There doesn’t seem to be any need to speak. Quietness permeates the room. Dr. Sammy and the Mistress cuddle together on the floor. The dusty black sofa looks disgusting and reeks of something awful. Mistress Nguvu wants to pee. She eyes the toilet, but decides against it. Now is the time to comfort her friend. The time for personal business is later.

Jonathan, on the other hand, gets up to use the toilet. There’s no toilet paper or running water to clean his hands. Oh well. He returns back to his spot on the floor and places his arms behind his head. He stares up at the ceiling. A light fixture stares back down at him. A spider crawls across one of the bulbs. Normally, Jonathan would freak out at the sight of such a repulsive eight-legged creature, but he has no more fear left to dispense. All he can do is stare at it and wish it well. Odds are, the spider is capable of escaping this hell hole. The humans, however, are not.

He shuts his eyes and tries to think of more pleasant memories. None come to mind. Fuck.

Eventually, Jonathan drifts off to sleep. He doesn’t know if Dr. Samantha or Mistress Nguvu follow suit, but he doesn’t care. He’s too exhausted to care. All he wants to do is sleep and wake up in his own bed and find out everything is just a nightmare. He doubts this will happen.