Episode Twenty and Nineteen A Visit to the Tower, Pookie Wookie

     Early the next morning there was a buzz through the castle.  The Galt tracker had been found and captured, and King Frederick of Robesson was going to handle the interrogation himself.

    “Cora, are you SURE?”

    “Yes, I saw them drag him in.”

    “Describe him.”

    “A bundle of arms and legs being dragged up to the tower.  Dark hair, thin.  Black trousers.  I’m sorry.  In that position there wasn’t much to see.”

    Isabella walked quickly up to the tower followed closely by Justin.

    “Cora, stay here,” Justin called back to her.  “You don’t want to see what goes on up there, My Dear.”  He caught up to the princess.  “This is not a good idea,” fussed Justin.  “Your father will be furious at me for not keeping you away.  Do you have any idea what goes on in there?”

    “Yes, I do!  And that’s why we need to get in there right away.”

Isabella opened the door.  There was an unconscious Jakson, hanging by his wrists, stripped to the waist.  A guard had strapped some kind of electronic device to his neck and chest and was locking it with a key.  She gulped hard and composed herself.

    “Thank you, guard, I’ll take it from here.”

    “The truth serum will need a few more minutes to work properly, Princess, but the shock device is locked in place,” he handed her the remote, “and ready to go.  I tried it out, and gave him a little private lesson.  He’s a quick learner.  He knows he can nod yes or shake his head no.  No words.  Any sound that comes from his throat will cause a shock blast.”

    “Then, what’s the remote do?”

    “Hold down the green button to allow him to speak without being shocked.”

    “Give me the key.”

    “No!  You want to take it off of him?  Already?  I just put it on him!  But, why?”

    “You have the insolence to tell me no?  Justin, throw this cocky, disrespectful bastard out the window at the count of ten if he does not give me the key.  Then go down and take the key off of his miserable dead body and bring it up to me.  Either way, I get the key.  So which will it be?  One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five.”  The guard handed her the key.

    “King Frederick will be very angry with you.”

    “Oh, it won’t be the first time nor, dare I say it, the last.  I’ll deal with it.”

    “He’ll be very angry with me.”

    “Tell him I frightened you.  Boo!” she shouted.  “Now get the hell out of here before I heave you out of this window myself!”  He scurried away.

    “Justin, can you release him?”  Justin examined the apparatus. 

    “Well, I can raise it or lower it by turning this handle, but I have no idea where the release is.  And I’m afraid to experiment.  Your father doesn’t allow me up here too often.  He says I have no heart for torture.  And he is correct.  I can lower him.”

    “Then lower him gently, please.”   

    “Jaks?” she cradled his head in her arms.  “Jaks, Honey, can you hear me?”  He opened his eyes and gave her the tiniest smile.  She rocked him gently.  “Don’t worry, I’ll get us out of here.  I don’t know how just yet, but I’ll find a way to get us home.”  He nodded. “I won’t desert you, I promise, and I won’t leave you up here at his mercy.  I’ll stay right here with you until I figure a way out of this mess.  I want to go home.  I want us to go home,” she kissed his forehead.


Episode Ninteen  The Pookie Wookie

    “She’s gone,” Jakson tried to explain.  “These hands came out through a silvery portal that opened up on the brick wall and they grabbed her.  Six, eight hands, grabbing at her all at once.  They grabbed hold of her and yanked her through the doorway.  I held onto her for as long as I could.  But she went flying through.  I reached in and tried to follow her.  But the portal closed.  I went into the closest doorway I could find.  But she wasn’t there.  I looked everywhere.  I can’t find her anywhere.  Unbelievable story, it makes no sense at all, I know!  But it’s the truth, I swear it.  She’s not here.  She’s gone.”
    Werner and his men were unimpressed with his explanation.
    “One minute you two are running down the street hand in hand and the next minute, POOF!  She’s gone!  Like magic!  You expect us to believe that?”
    “Okay.  You tell me.  Where did she go?  Where is she?”
    They dragged him back to Werner’s warehouse headquarters, where he repeated to Werner his ridiculous story of the silvery portal opening up in the middle of brick walls and many hands grabbing her and whisking her away from him.
    “Very strange hypothesis, this Jakson Blake’s scientific theory of wife evaporation.  Fine.  I’ll keep you tied up right here until she comes back to get you.  And you know she will!  Because she doesn’t want her sweet little pookie wookie roughed up.  Be very thankful I don’t have my men beat the shit out of you.  What’s the matter with you, man?  Why in the hell didn’t you just call out to us?  We were right there on the other side of the door!  You claim you love her.  Yet you let her jump out the second-story window!  You two could have landed in the street, got run over, and died.  Or broken yours bones.  And where the hell did you think you were going?  You knew you couldn’t get away from us.  I need her!  Now, thanks to your irresponsible actions, we’ve both lost her.  Stupid.  Stupid move, Blake.
    But I’ve really got to hand it to you, Blake.  Whatever you did to her, it worked.  That woman is crazy about you.”  Werner turned to his men.  “Take everything out of his pockets and tie him up securely.  And take away his shoes and socks.”
    “Now, we’ll just wait here for her to come and attempt to rescue you.  How long do you think it’ll take?  A day?  Two?”
    “She’s gone, Werner.  She’s not coming back for me.  They took her away from me.  They yanked her right out of my arms.  She’s not free to come back, for me or anything else.”
    “She’s the brains of your operation, Blake.  And she’s the guts, too.  She’ll find a way to save you,” said Werner.  “Okay, boys, it looks like we’re going to be here for a while.  Who’s got the cards?  George?  Okay, deal them.”
    Jakson waited until he was sure they were all sound asleep before he carefully and silently wriggled out of the ropes.  He quietly reached for his shoes and socks and then tiptoed out of the warehouse.  After he put on his socks and shoes, he walked to the downtown business district, where he could hide easily among the homeless people lurking in the archways and sleeping in any quiet, sheltered spot they could find.  He found a spot against an inside wall of a pavilion in the central park area.  He pulled up his collar, crouched down against the wall, and settled in for a few hours sleep.

ARTFULLY QUOTED

Many of us know artists by their paintings.  But how many of us know artists by their words?  Here are just a few inspirational quotes from some well known artists.


"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart".
--Vincent Van Gogh

"Creatvity takes courage".
--Henri Matisse

"If I could say it in words there would be no reason to paint".
--Edward Hopper

"Art washes away from the soul, the dust of everyday life".
--Pablo Picasso

"Great art picks up where nature ends".
--Marc Chagall



Now go forth and be inspired.
--Parker

MY FAVORITE POSTS FROM THE FIRST YEAR OF VISION & VERSE

For the next week I'd like to look back at and repost some of my favorite posts here on Vision & Verse.  I hope you will enjoy looking back with me at these special articles.

 

 

 

Here's another book you'll definitely want to get your hands on.  PAINTINGS OF NEW YORK, 1800 - 1950,  by Bruce Weber.

In the words of American Impressionist painter, Childe Hassan,  "The portrait of a city is in a way like the portrait of a person - the difficulty is to catch not only the superficial resemblance, but the inner self.  The spirit is what counts".

New York City has long been the center of the international art world and has attracted a multitude of artists because of it's energy and diversity.  Paintings of New York is a stunning collection of paintings by noted artists like Pier Mondrian, Georgia O'Keefe, Jacob Lawrence, and Edward Hopper; close to 80 in all.

The book fully embodies Hassan's definition of a portrait of this magnificent metropolis.  It is a beautifully crafted montage of art and history that is certain to delight art lovers..

Episode Eighteen Who's "We"?

    “A dull, boring, gray life.  I have no idea how long I was there, over a year, maybe two.  One day was just like another.  Then one day I woke up in a private clinic in Tampa, Florida with what I was told was a viral memory loss.  My head was aching.  When I was released, I went to my beautiful home on the beach.  It was like paradise.  It was wonderful.  And just when I thought my life couldn’t get any better, I was kidnapped by some international terrorists, one named Werner.  They had me do some code breaking and encoding for them.”  Her father nodded as he listened.  “Then we escaped.  We jumped out of a window, we slid down an awning, ran down the street, and slipped into a little vintage clothing shop, where we met a very sweet older woman who helped us find clothing to disguise us.”

    “WE?  Bella, who is we?”

    “Me,” she suddenly feared telling him the truth, “and my husband, Jakson Blake.”

    “Do you remember marrying this man, this Jakson Blake?”

    “Yes, Father, I do.  It was a lovely little ceremony on the beach with a few friends and some people from work.  My best friend Annette was my maid of honor.  The weather was perfect.  And Jakson’s parents came in from London.  Oh, they’re wonderful people, Father.  It was  beautiful!  I know that Jakson Blake is my husband,” she nodded.

    “And what does this Jakson Blake look like, Daughter?”

    “Tall, thin, dark hair, dark eyes.  An attractive man.  Kind, funny, and what a sweetheart!”

    “How long has this man been travelling with you as your husband?”

    “I’m not really sure. A year, a year and a half.  Why?”

    “Is THIS Jakson Blake, Isabella?”  He pulled out a photo from a file on the table.

    “Yes, that’s him, that’s my Jaks.  He’s an international mediator.  He’s a brilliant man, he speaks seven languages.  Oh, he’s incredible, Father,” she smiled and nodded.

    “No, Dear.  This is Tarek Ikari, a Galt tracker, actually the best tracker on all of Norwell, the one who was sent to track you, find you, and kill you.”

    “No!  No, Father, you’ve got it all wrong.  This is Jakson Blake.  Jaks is my husband.  He’s been wonderful to me, very loving, devoted.  He has had many opportunities to harm me, but he didn’t.  We’ve been together for a year and a half.  He could have killed me anytime, at night while I slept next to him.  Are you sure Werner and the international terrorists weren’t hired to track and kill me?”

    “I am absolutely positive Tarek Ikari was the one sent to kill you.  He is the best tracker the Galts have.  You are very lucky to be alive, Daughter.  Our men are zeroing in on him right now.  They expect to have him in custody by sunrise.”  Sam gulped hard.

    “Father, what will you do to him?”

    “Get the truth out of him.”

    “How?”

    “The usual way.”

    “And then what?”

    “No one has ever left the Tower alive, Child.”

    “Father, please don’t kill him, or hurt him.  Promise me.  I need to talk to him.”  Her father didn’t answer.  “I want to be there for your interrogation.”  She thought about it some more.  “No, no!  I want to handle the interrogation myself,” realizing she could spare him much agony that way.  Her father was silent.  “Father, PLEASE!”

Episode Seventeen You and Me and Soup and Bread

    “Let me get you something for that pounding headache.  What you do want me to do with this poor little orphan boy outfit?  Throw it away?”

    “No.  Hang it in my closet, in the back, please.  I might need it.  I like the freedom of that little orphan boy outfit much more than all those puffy satin dresses with crinoline and yards of lace and bows I’m seeing around here.”  Cora left the room.  Isabella rested comfortably on her bed.  Cora came back with headache medicine.

    “Bella, um, Sam, here, this will help you feel better.  I’ll pick out your dinner dress, and stay with you until you fall asleep.  Are you afraid?”

    “Me?  No.  Afraid of what?”

    “Nightmares?  Panic?  Fear of being abducted by those dirty, murderous Galts again?”

    “No.  I have no recollection of being abducted.  I’m not even sure that happened.”

    “Rest now.  We’ll catch up, later.”

    “Thanks, Cora.”  Cora nodded and picked out a dress for dinner, a pale green satin with bows and a very wide full hip skirt that tapered narrowly at the bottom.  Then she sat in the chair and watched her sleep, wondering who this strange girl could possibly be.

    “Ah, now you look like a princess and not a street waif!  Are you hungry, My Dear?” gushed her father.   A hearty soup and bread were served.  Wine was poured.  There was a file on the table with the official Robesson seal on the front.

    “Yes, I am,” she smiled, smoothing down her giant bubble of a satin dress.  “Father, I have so many questions.”

    “I imagined you would.  How is your head?”

    “Better, thank you.”

    “Tomorrow evening we will have a wonderful dinner party to welcome you home, with many guests and all your favorite dishes.  But for now, it’s just you and me and soup and bread.”

    “Oh, let’s skip the party for now.  I really don’t feel much like a party.  Maybe later.”

    “Isabella?  You never turn down a reason to have a party!  Your head must still be hurting.  Very well, I’ll postpone the festivities until you feel more like yourself.”

    “Thank you, Father.”

    “Tell me what you remember, my dear.”

    “I remember working for a trucking company, in the office.  I did some office work, but mostly worked out truck routes, like shortest distance plus highest speed limit, miles per hour times miles per gallon, lots of Math.  It was a giant ever-changing puzzle with many variables.  I liked my work. I lived in a tiny, sparse apartment.  I was all by myself, Father.  My co-workers were old, boring, married, forty-year old people.  There was no one my age, no one to talk to and laugh with.  It was a dull, lonely existence.”

    “Yes, Bella, I hid you in Demby, Ohio, the most remote, isolated place I could find.”

    “Alone?  You couldn’t send someone with me?  You stuck me in that cold, remote, dreary dirt hole all by myself?  How could you?”

    “They said they could dampen one signal, but two Robesson signals could have drawn our enemies directly to you.  Cora cried, pleaded, and begged to go with you, and Justin, too.  But I couldn’t.  Why hide you and then attach a beacon signal to you?  So, what happened after that?”

Yo! Readers, Are You out There?

Yo!  Readers, are you out there?

    Parker and I have been here for three weeks today.  I am offering my latest novel, my sixth romantic adventure story/ second science fiction novel, CHARMING DECEPTION for your reading pleasure exclusively here on our blog, Vision and Verse.  If you liked BELTERRA, my best-selling sci-fi novel, you'll like this one, too.
    And Parker is guiding you through the world of art through his eyes, taking you by the hand and personally showing you the inspirations that have helped him form his beautiful and unique works of art.  This journey with him is educational as well as inspirational, and beautifully done.
    We would like to have a one-month celebration give-away on May 15, 2013.  BUT we have to know you're out there, noticing we're here, reading our posts, and maybe seeing something that you like.
    So, a word in the comment section, a "yo!" or hello, would be greatly appreciated.   Thank you.
                                                          Hugs,
                                                          Carol

Episode Sixteen In the Kingdom of Robesson

Episode Sixteen  In the Kingdom of Robesson

    “Isabella!  Bella!  Are you hurt?”  An older man with long grey-white hair dressed in a flowing white robe over a green gown and wearing a beautiful golden crown hugged Sam gently.  “I honestly felt that you were lost to me forever, My Precious Child.  I feared you were dead.”
    “Father!  No, I’m fine.”
    “You look, uh, very bizarre.”  She pulled off the red wig, tousled her hair, and smiled at him.
    “Ah, there’s my girl!  Tell me, Bella, did you recognize any of your captors?”
    “No, Father.  But everything is all confused.  I feel like I’ve been tugged and dragged and pulled apart.  And I have a nasty headache.”
    “That is to be expected.  That damn mirror transporter jangled your brainwaves.  Rest a bit, My Child, and then we’ll have something to eat.  Cook made soup.  And then, maybe I can help you unravel some of your confusion.  I’m sure you’ll want to dress in something a little more, uh, um, appropriate.”
    “Yes, Father.”
    “Justin! Cora!  Come here!  Bella is home!”  Justin and Cora came running. 
    “Please accompany Isabella to her room, and stay close to her.”  The three walked down the hall and up the stairs holding hands with Bella in the middle.
    “You’re safe now, Bella.  Justin and I will protect you.  Are you okay?” Cora whispered as she hugged her.
    “Yes, I’m fine.  Confused, tired, and I have a nasty headache.  But I’m okay.”
    “Good, I’ve missed you very much, my friend.”
    “I’ve missed you, too, Cora, but I don’t think I’m …”  Justin opened a door and Cora and Isabella went in.
    “We were so worried about you!  What can I get for you?” 
    “Nothing, Cora.  Cora, listen to me, I don’t think I am Isabella.”
    “Oh, of course, you are!  Who else could you be?  You’ve just had your brainwaves jangled.  Your father said this was likely to happen.  It’s the mirror transport.  He would like you to rest.  You have been through a harrowing experience.”
    “No, Cora.  This is more than brain jangles.  I’m Samantha Blake.  Sam.  Do you know what happened to me?”
    “Wouldn’t you rather rest and hear the official Robesson version from your father?”
    “No.  I want to know what you know first, the unofficial version that resembles the truth more than the official royal version.  Come on, Cora.  He’ll never know what you tell me.”
    “Well, all right,” Cora plopped down on the sofa.  “The high and mighty, smelly old Count James of Henderson came to the king with news that you had been targeted by the Galtari Nationals.  They were going to kidnap and murder you.  So the king hid you on an off-planet, some bizarre modern place, Earth he called it.  These Earthites look just like us, I hear.  I begged him to send me with you.  Justin and I both wanted to come with you, so you wouldn’t be all alone, but he said no.  Then he was informed that you had been abducted from your secret hiding place by the Galt tracker who was sent to kill you.  We all feared for your life.  Many thought you were already dead.  But your father never gave up hope.  The king has been sending raiding parties to the off-planet in search of you every day for over a year.”
    “Thank you, Cora.  I think I’ll take a nap now.  I have a pounding headache.”

Episode Fifteen Through a Silvery Portal

Episode Fifteen  Through a Silvery Portal

    "Sam, what the hell are we doing?  They'll kill us."
    “Who are they, Jaks?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Yes, you do.  You know them.  They knew you by name.  Now tell me.  Who are they?”
    “What did they want you to do?”
    “Break a code.  Decode a message.  And then encode their answer.”
    “And you did it?”
    “Yes”
    “What did it say?”
    “Who are they, Jaks?”
    “Very bad people, Sam.  Thugs.  Murderers.  International terrorists.”
    “How do you know them?”
    “I’m an international mediator.  I have to sit down with this kind of scum all the time and try to resolve issues that they would rather not have resolved.  But, Sam, Honey, I have to tell you something.  Something I should have told you as soon as we got home.  I wanted to tell you before, but I didn’t know how you’d react.  Remember that I love you more than anything in the world, this world, and all worlds.  Please don’t be angry with me, or think that I don’t truly love you with my whole heart and soul, because I do.  Samantha, I’m not who you think I am.  I’m your Jaks, and I always will be your Jaks, but, Honey, I…”  
    A shiny doorway of silvery, opaque semi-liquid opened up on the brick wall as they walked by.  Hands reached out of the silvery doorway and grabbed hold of Samantha, pulling her inside.
    “Jaks!” she screamed.
    “No!  Sam!”  Jakson held on to her hand as long as he could.   “Sam, hold on to me!  Don’t let go!  Samantha!  No!”  But she was pulled inside, away from him.  He reached into the shimmering semi-liquid for a moment, groping around for her, but she wasn’t there.  Then the shiny doorway disappeared and the brick wall was once again solid.  Jakson ran in the nearest door he could find, surprised to find himself in a pediatrician’s office.
    “Can I help you?” asked the receptionist.
    “Did a woman just run in here? Long straight auburn hair, big blue eyes?”
    “No.  I’m sorry.”
    Jakson walked back out onto the street and ran straight into the hoodlums he was running away from.  They grabbed him and threw him up against the now solid brick wall.
    “Where is she, Blake?  Where is Molly Kasjak?  Where is Samantha Blake?  Werner wants her back.  Now!”  They loosened their grip on one of his arms.  He motioned inside the pediatrician’s office and shook his head, smoothing down the back of his hair, fully aware they wouldn’t believe his highly implausible story.
    “We were running down the street.  Hands came out of a shiny doorway.  Many hands.  They grabbed her.  They pulled her away from me.  I held on to her as long as I could.  But… she’s gone.  Gone!  I ran into this doctor’s office here looking for her.  But she’s not there.  She’s gone.”
    “Gone?”
    “Gone,” he repeated, nodding his head.
    “Gone where?”

VOCABULARY

I thought it would be interesting to post art vocabulary in an entertaining way, to impart morsels of information from which to draw when viewing works of art, with the hope that it will enhance  your viewing experience.

Today's word is  REPOUSSOIR  pronounced (ray-poo-swah).  It is of French origin and means "to push back".  It is a technique used to achieve perspective or spacial relationship.  For example, placing a large figure or object in the immediate foreground of a painting, the artist increases the illusion of depth  in the rest of the picture.

Paul Signac (1863 - 1935), a French Neo-Impressionist painter, used this technique adeptly in his painting "Sunday"  featured above.  Take note of how the large figure of the man further enhances the visual sense that there is distance between the foreground and background.

Other artists employing this method are Paolo Veronese, Peter Paul Rubens, Jacob van Ruisdael, and Gustave Caillebotte.

Episode Fourteen Jump

Episode Fourteen    Jump

    "Here," he stopped at a door.  "He's in here."  Werner opened the door.  Jakson was tied in a chair, lower lip bleeding, right cheek bruised.  Definitely roughed up.
    “Jaks!” she screamed.  Samantha quickly glanced out the window as she ran to him.  She straddled him and sat on his lap in the chair and began putting pressure on his lip wound with some tissues she found in her pocket.  He said nothing, but his warm brown eyes caressed her lovingly.  And there was something else in his eyes she couldn’t quite read.   Something sad maybe.   
    “Werner, may I have a private moment alone with my husband, please?”
    “What?” laughed Werner.  “You’ve got to be joking!  Absolutely not!  No!”
    “What do you think we’re going to do?  Jump out the damn window?  You want my continued cooperation, don’t you?  I have no problem helping you.  You could’ve just asked me instead of playing ambush at the drugstore.  Give me a few minutes alone with my husband.”
    “Five minutes, Mrs. Blake.  And we will be standing right here outside the door.”  Werner closed the door.  She kissed him, reached behind him, and untied him.  
    “Come on,” she whispered with a devilish grin.  She led him to the window.
    “What are you up to?  What are we going to do?”
    “Jump.”
    “No!  Sam!  NO!  This is crazy!  We’ll break our legs!  And then, they’ll kill us.”  She took his hand and jumped, pulling him down with her.  They landed on the awning below and slide down to the edge, jumping to the sidewalk.  Jakson was apprehensive.
“Samantha!  Have you lost your mind?  And how did you even know there was an awning?”
    “Run!  Been here before.  There’s a great little vintage clothes shop up here on the left.”  She took off, crossed the street, and ducked into a small shop.  He followed her in.
    “We need help.  Clothes.  Disguise.”
    “Cops?”
    “No.  Abusive ex-husband.  The bastard just won’t leave me alone.  And if he catches us, he’ll kill him, and HE’S a very good man,” she said nodding toward Jakson.
    “In here,” said the sympathetic older woman and ushered them into a back room.  She eyed Samantha.
    “Size ten?”  Samantha nodded and the woman disappeared.  In a few minutes, she came back with clothes for Samantha and a long auburn wig, stretchy flats, and a big handbag.
    “Now, you, you tall drink of water,” she turned to Jakson, “you’re going to be a problem.”
    Samantha dressed in the new clothes.
    “Do you have a credit card on you?”  He nodded and pulled it out to show her.
    “Good.  Give it to her.  And I mean GIVE.”  He nodded.
    “Got it.”
    The woman came back in with a long coat, baseball cap, sunglasses, jeans and a Beatles tee shirt.
    “This is the best I could come up with.”
    “Thank you,” said Jakson, handing her his credit card.  “We can’t use it anymore.  It’ll be traced.  Use it.  Buy yourself something really nice.  From us, as a little thank you for helping us.  We truly appreciate your help.”  Jakson slid into a fitting room and emerged looking very cool.
    “Here,” the woman jammed some cash into Jakson’s hand.           “Lunch money.  Take good care of her.  And good luck to you two.”  Jakson nodded.
    Jakson took Samatha’s hand as they left the shop and walked down the street.

Episode Thirteen Encryption

Episode Thirteen  Encryption

    The back doors of the van swung open.
    "How touching!  Such a sweet, loving couple.  I've got to hand it to you, Blake," said the man who seemed to be in charge of the other three, all standing there with weapons drawn.
    “Get out of the van,” he ordered.  “Move slowly.  Molly Kasjak, put your shoes on.”  Samantha looked up.  
    “I’m Samantha Blake, not Molly Kasjak,” she said calmly and confidently.  “You’ve kidnapped the wrong person, Bozo.”
    “Put your shoes on, whatever the hell your name is.”  She crawled around the floor of the van looking for her shoes while two men pulled Jakson roughly out of the van and pushed him around the van toward the back of the warehouse.
    “No!  I’m staying with my wife.  No!  I’m not leaving her alone with you.  Sam, run!  Let me go!  Don’t you even touch her,” she heard him shouting as they dragged him away.  She crawled out of the van and walked in front of the man in charge.  He motioned her to the side door.  They went in and up a flight of rusty, old, rickety metal steps to a clean, well-maintained office. 
    “Sit, Molly.” Samantha sat in the office chair near a desk, leaned back, crossed her legs, and got comfortable.  She looked around.  One exit.  Barred windows.  She took a deep breath, eyeing her captor.  Light complexion, blue eyes, balding.  Medium build, muscular, about middle forties.
    “Sam.  My name is Sam, not Molly.  And what exactly do you want with me, Mr…?”
    “Your cooperation, Sam.  You may call me Werner.”
    “And if I don’t cooperate?”
    “We will kill Jakson Blake.” 
    “Where is he, Werner?”
    “Being subdued.  He tried to get away from us, to be with you, I’m guessing from his rants.”
    “May I see him?”
    “In due time.  After you complete a project for us.  We need you to decode a message.  And then encode our answer.  As soon as you are done, and the message is sent, received, and acknowledged, you may see Jakson Blake.
    Some papers were laid out on the desk.  Samantha looked them over and began to concentrate.
    “What is this?  Nothing makes sense to me here.  I need...” she started.
    “Don’t try it!  If you irritate me, Blake will pay dearly.  I am not a patient man.”
    “I need paper and some pencils, and a pen.  I’m not stalling, Werner.  Don’t hurt him.”
    Supplies were brought in and set on the desk.  She got to work. She drew out a table and put values in the chart.
    “A calculator would really speed up this process.”
    He handed her one from his shirt pocket.  She got back to work.  She worked as quickly as she could without forsaking accuracy in solving the equations.  Hours passed.
    “Okay.  This is it.  It makes absolutely no sense to me, but there are no errors.”
    Werner took the paper, read it, wrote an answer and handed it back to her.  She quickly encoded it and handed it back.  He typed it into his laptop and waited.  It beeped a notification.
    “Message received and acknowledged,” he smiled.  “Good work, Samantha Blake.”
    “Now may I see my husband?  Please.”  Werner motioned to the hallway with his gun.  They walked down the hall.