We drove for perhaps ten more minutes, until I was pretty sure we'd left Las Vegas proper, though by now I'd lost count of how many turns and speed changes we'd made. He didn't talk any more, and I didn't bother to ask him any more questions. I was too worried about whether or not my implants had been ruined.
Unfortunately, there was no way to tell. Only time would do that. If we got to our destination and more than a few hours passed, I figured that would pretty much settle things. In the meantime, though, I had to continue to hope for rescue. After all, it did me no good to lose hope, or at least that's what my rational mind kept telling me.
Eventually, I got tired of standing there and curled up in a corner, wishing the hard metal floor was a little bit more comfortable. I was still feeling a mishmash of emotions: fear, anger, embarrassment. But now a new, more powerful demon had entered my mind, and its name was Despair.
To be quite honest, I wanted to cry, but of course I wouldn't allow myself to do that. I'm FBI agent Kate McLeary, after all, and I was too strong to shed a tear, even in the face of complete hopelessness.
If he really had destroyed my electronic equipment, I thought, there'd be no way for Mark to track me. And because my captor had been so thorough, my partner would have real trouble finding this van. About the only chance I had was tire tracks (though I suspected this guy was probably smart enough to avoid that, too, or else he'd just change his tires as soon as he got home), or some passerby having seen him change out the license plates. And those were both extreme long shots.
In due course, we pulled into a driveway somewhere and the van came to a stop. The man who'd abducted me pulled out a blanket and tossed it over the top of the cage, cutting off my view of the outside world. Then I had to flatten myself to the floor as the cage rocked twice and then was lifted into the air.
Again, he was very careful moving me. He seemed to be making an effort to keep the cage straight and level. The sensation of motion was very unbalancing, though, so much so that I couldn't get to my feet and try to pull the blanket up to see outside. I really wanted to do that, if only to get some idea of where I was.
Instead of looking, I listened, trying to see if I could get any information that way. A dog was barking in the distance, which sent a new surge of fear through me--what if this man had a dog? It could kill me without much difficulty, and make escape impossible!
Putting that thought out of my mind as best I could, I listened further. I heard a car pass by, and in the distance, a jet overhead. Was I downrange of the airport? That was the only clue I had, though, as we paused in our journey, and I heard keys turning in a lock.
Before I could get up and try to look under the blanket, we started moving again. After perhaps a dozen steps, a door opened, and then we started going down stairs, obviously into a basement. I had to hold my breath as I bounced up and down in rhythm with the man's feet on the steps.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we leveled off and the cage came to a stop on some surface or other. "Here you are, Ashley," he said, pulling the towel off the bars. "Welcome to your new home."
I looked around. I was in a finished basement, with a drop ceiling, wood paneling, and fluorescent lighting. My cage was resting on a wide, darkly stained table with several stacks of books nearby. My captor stood there, looking down at me, letting me take in my surroundings and watching carefully to see my reaction.
All around me I saw evidence that this room was used as an entertainment center of sorts. The far wall had a large stereo system as well as a wide-screen television, with a big recliner chair sitting in front of it. Off to one side, I saw a computer desk and assorted peripherals. Behind that, obviously extending into a part of the basement I couldn't see, was the surface of a billiards table.
As I looked around, though, I saw one thing that I really didn't like. It was a dollhouse, one of those Barbie ones, on a desk to my right. That wasn't the only Barbie thing up there, either. I could see one of those swimming pool sets, and a mini gym as well. Not to mention a rack that appeared to be well stocked with doll clothes.
Well, that was it, then. I was going to be this guy's living Barbie doll, wasn't I? I wanted to scream!
"What do you think?" he asked me, still grinning. "I went to a lot of trouble for you, you know."
"Am I supposed to thank you?" I spat angrily. "You think I'm some kind of toy, don't you? Well, I'm not!"
He laughed, and leaned down close to the cage to look at me, causing me to shudder involuntarily. "Of course you are, Ashley. You're my new doll. You don't understand that yet, but you will, sooner or later."
I cringed. He was right, of course. Shrunk down like this, I was nothing more than a doll for his amusement!
"I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "I haven't introduced myself. My name is Irwin Stephenson. I don't have any problem telling you that, because you'll never get a chance to report it to anyone."
I looked at him for a moment. "I guess I don't have to tell you who I am," I said after a long pause. "You already seem to know my name and everything about me."
"Of course," he told me. "I'm nothing if not efficient. I've been watching you for some time, Ashley Richardson. Since you started working at the casino, in fact. I've been looking for just the right doll, and you, my dear, are perfect."
I shuddered slightly at that, but didn't say anything.
"Now, now, don't worry," he reassured me. "As long as you do what I tell you, you'll have nothing to fear from me. I'll never hurt you or lie to you, and all your needs will be provided for. You'll never have to work again or worry about money, taxes, or any of the other cares of life. You'll soon realize you're in paradise on Earth. What more could anyone ask for?"
For freedom, I thought, but I just kept silent. I got the impression that arguing with him would be futile at this point.
He opened up the door to the cage. "Well, enough of that. Come on out, would you?" he asked, trying to sound kindly, but instead, he just came off as overbearing. "Come out and I'll show you around."
I didn't move at first, but when he started to reach his hand towards the cage again, I got to my feet and marched out, holding my head up defiantly. I was feeling a sense of overwhelming hopelessness, but at the same time, I refused to show weakness in front of this man.
Damn it, I thought, I'm NOT a doll, no matter what he said or how small I was! I'm still a person, and an agent with the FBI at that. Somehow, some way, I was going to get out of this!
He seemed pleased as I walked confidently along the edge of the table, looking around at my surroundings. He pointed out all the things he'd included for my uses, such as the TV, stereo, books, computer, and pool table. I also saw some other things I hadn't seen before, including a model railroad set along the floor, a stack of family board games, and a variety of small-scale cars and airplanes that looked like they'd been built from kits. Obviously, Irwin wanted to make sure I wouldn't be bored in my prison. And make no mistake about it, this was a prison, no matter how much he thought he'd prettied it up for me.
When he pointed out the computer, I thought immediately that I might be able to use it to call for help. He wasted no time crushing that idea, however. "Oh, in case you're wondering," he pointed out, "the wireless connection is deactivated, and of course, there are no phones down here. In fact, I don't even have a phone line in the house, so you won't get any help that way, even if you could somehow get out of the basement."
He really had gone all out, hadn't he? I wouldn't give up, though. Like a prisoner of war, I decided right then to focus all my energies on escape. After all, if Mark didn't show up soon, I was going to be on my own.
After I'd seen most of the normal size stuff, he picked me up and carried me over to the nearby table. As usual, I gasped and struggled when he grabbed me, but that only made him hold on tighter. "You shouldn't do that," he said patiently, gazing down at my pitifully small body in his hand. "After all, if I dropped you, the results could be very painful, and I don't want my little pet hurt, now do I?"
I heard the pitch of his voice rise at the end of that comment. Oh, geez, I thought, pretty soon he'll be talking baby talk to me, like I'm a dog or cat or something!
God, this was infuriating!
He set me down softly on the desk, in amongst some things that were more my size. Now I was really home, I thought sarcastically. The dollhouse, such as it was, was simply a small room with a bed behind a couple of panels that could close up to give me some privacy. The swimming pool was only slightly larger than myself, so I doubted I could even completely immerse myself in the water. The gym set was a raised ladder and some swings, like you might find in a kid's back yard. In other words, everything here was little more than toys.
Which, of course, was the point, wasn't it?
Of course, the clothes were the final insult. Well, what else was I supposed to wear? Torn up rags? I certainly wasn't going to put on the stupid casino costume every day! Yet, the idea of wearing Barbie outfits simply disgusted me. It was totally demeaning, and humiliating in the worst sort of way.
A thought occurred to me, then. This guy wanted me to be his toy, didn't he? So by putting me in doll clothes, he probably hoped I'd start to think I really was a doll after a while. Simple psychology.
Well, I wasn't going to let him win. I was a woman, damn it all! He could dress me up in all the doll outfits he wanted, treat me like a toy as much as he wanted, but I would never forget who I really was.
I'm Kate McLeary, FBI agent, I wanted to shout. And I'm not a doll!