Free We Are Holding the President Hostage by Warren Adler

President's."
    "And just how would you get them there?" Robert
asked.
    "There is always a way," the Padre said.

10
    FROM WHERE SHE SAT on a little wooden stool chained to a
radiator, Maria could see Joey. A chain had been attached around his waist with
the lead attached to another radiator at the other end of the room. Beside her
was a pail, which both she and Joey used as a toilet. It was awful,
dehumanizing. And it stank.
    They were in a room with high ceilings and windows that
looked out on what must have been a garden. It was now totally overgrown with
high weeds, which concealed almost all of the view. But Maria could tell the
time of day by the degree of light that managed to seep through the foliage.
    Her resilience amazed her, although she worried about Joey,
who had grown morose by his confinement. Yet she had derived strength from
trying to keep up his spirits. Mostly, she made up long stories from her
memory. She was, in effect, reliving her life, creating entertainment for her
son from the events of her past.
    Maria was surprised at the interest it engendered in her
son and the degree to which it kept her revitalized and able to cope with the
physical discomforts of this cruel confinement. It struck her as a miracle that
she had alighted on this idea. We humans are resourceful little suckers, she
told herself now, although she had been paralyzed with fright when the man had
first fastened her to the radiator.
    "Not the boy. Please," she had begged.
    He had smiled and chucked her under the chin.
    "Nothing to it." He had looked around the room.
"We will feed you well." With a thick hand, on which tufts of thick
black hair grew along the ridges of his fingers, he tousled the boy's hair.
    "You want to play, little boy?" the man said with
surprising gentleness. Joey shrank from the man, cowering against the wall.
    "I want my daddy," Joey whispered.
    "But you have your mommy," the man smirked.
    "Leave my child alone! Can't you see he's upset?"
Maria shouted.
    She had an urge to spit in the man's face, kick him in the
testicles. He had blindfolded them both, covered them with canvas and made them
lie on the floor of the rear seat. They had driven for what seemed like days,
although, after the blindfolds had been removed, she had noted that only three
hours had elapsed since they had been kidnapped.
    She heard voices of other men in the house, which seemed
large and smelled musty and old. Her nostrils picked up the fetid smell of
moisture and she decided that they were somewhere close to the Nile. Unfortunately, her Arabic was spotty and she was not able to understand some of the
words that, at times, could be heard clearly.
    It took Maria some time to make an intelligent assessment
of the rhythm of life that went on around them. Meals came at regular
intervals, giving her a time frame to adhere to. They were brought by a fat
woman wearing a galabia. She also wore a veil and smelled putrid, like rotting
fish.
    "I hate this food, Mommy," Joey said as he spat
it back into his plate.
    "You must eat it, sweets."
    He would try again. Sometimes he gagged and retched.
Finally, he began to keep it down.
    "That's a good boy," she said with encouragement.
    "I want to go home."
    "I know, sweets. Soon. I promise."
    In a few days, she got somewhat used to the rhythm. They
gave them both sleeping bags, which they spread out on the floor near the
radiators. The most pressing problem was being able to sleep with the chain,
but soon that, too, was compensated for by some mysterious inner mechanism. It
was this same mechanism that goaded her senses, awakening in her an alertness
that she had never known.
    The worst part was not being able to touch her son. Even
when they both stretched as far as they could, there was still a man's length
between them.
    "Make believe we're touching, Joey. Close your eyes
and imagine that our fingers are entwining. Do that."
    She watched him close his eyes and stretch his small arm as
far as he could