Chapter 7
Angie left the Guthrie Theater and headed up Hennepin Avenue toward her car. It had been a delightful play. Harry would have enjoyed it if he just wouldn't work so much. She started thinking about their relationship. Maybe she was becoming a bit of a "Shrew" herself. She didn't really understand why Harry needed to commit so much of himself to medicine. It must have something to do with the nightmares he had. But she couldn't fix that. She needed him.
Lost in her thoughts, Angie opened her car door. She never saw the two men approaching her. One of them placed a strap around her arms and the other a strip of tape across her mouth. They simply picked her up and put her in the backseat of a car like a piece of baggage. Her abduction had taken all of 15 seconds. She struggled to sit up, but the windows were so darkened she could not even see out. The front seat was separated from the back by a thick dark glass. They drove for what seemed to be about an hour before stopping. The door opened and strong hands reached in and lifted her out. She wanted to fight, but there was nothing to fight. She was carried in through a garage-like building and into a brightly lit hallway. They made multiple turns and descended in an elevator. A door was opened through which she was carried and sat on a chair. An armed guard stood by the doorway as the tight strap was removed from her arms. One of the men said with an accent which sounded Middle Eastern, "You will stay here. You may remove the tape."
They left her sitting confused and scared. She began carefully pulling the tape from her face, trying to leave at least some skin attached. The tears did not help. With the tape removed, she thought of screaming but decided no one would be capable of hearing her. When she had settled down a bit, she began to look around the room she was in. It appeared to be a small, nicely appointed apartment with a sleeping area and a sitting room. There were curtains on the wall, but behind them were no windows. Thoughts continued to race through her head, but nothing made any sense. Someone had obviously planned for her arrival because there were clean clothes of her size in the closet. Worn out, she decided to try and sleep. She prepared for bed and dressed in a nightgown that seemed to have an Arabic design. Sleep did not come easily, and when it did, her dreams were of Harry and fighting.
She wasn't sure how long she had slept or the time of day she awoke. She had left the bathroom light on just to help keep oriented. She looked around and realized someone had placed a tray of food on the table. She had not heard anything and this frightened her anew. She looked at the table more closely and realized it was some sort of dumb waiter. She put on a beautiful cotton robe and sat at the small table. She was quite hungry but wondered if she should eat. She thought of Harry and what he would do. She could hear him say, "Might as well eat. If they meant to harm you, they would have already done it." So she ate. The fresh fruit was excellent.
Time seemed to have no meaning without clocks or daylight. She filled the time, after preparing for the day, by practicing her singing. Soon another meal appeared on the small table which she saw descend into the floor and then reappear with the food. Harry had never talked much about his imprisonment but did say keeping track of the time was one of the secrets to maintaining sanity. She knew how long her songs were and that gave her at least a clock of sorts.
Angie continued to pace around the small apartment she was locked in. She had been held captive for two of her nights now and she felt as if the confinement was going to drive her crazy. Why was she being held? It obviously had something to do with Harry because the only thing they had asked her for was his e-mail address. She worried about Harry. Was he in trouble too? After fidgeting and singing most of the afternoon, she finally sat and picked up a copy of the Holy Book, which was sitting by the bedside. Leafing through the text, she was amazed at how many of the stories she recognized from her Bible studies. Her reading was interrupted by a knock at the door. A young man dressed in a business suit and carrying a gun entered.
He bowed slightly and said, "Ma'am, your presence has been requested for dinner. If you would accompany me please."
Angie looked at the man and was tempted to try and use the skills in self-defense she had learned at Harry's urging. He looked much too comfortable with his gun. She rose from the reading chair and headed towards the door. The young man stepped aside and allowed her to enter the hallway before saying, "Proceed to the left. The elevator is at the end of the hall."
Angie did as she was directed and found the elevator door open and waiting. They entered the small elevator and her guard used a key to activate it. The elevator began ascending. Either it was a very slow elevator, or they moved several stories. The door opened and her guard nodded for her to exit the elevator. She entered a large foyer which was richly decorated with tapestries and dark wood. She was directed across the foyer. She could see a grand staircase to the left leading downwards to an elegant entryway, yet she was directed to the right. They stopped in front of a massive, carved wood door that dominated the wall in front of them. Her guard knocked quietly on the door and opened it. She entered a room whose walls were covered with tapestries; even the ceiling was covered in cloth. Ahead of her was a long dining table with a cluster of men at the far end. It was obvious their conversation had ended with her arrival.
The man sitting at the head of the table rose and walked toward her. He was dressed in a dark suit and appeared slightly older than Harry. He had significant graying of his dark hair at the temples. He was a small man who carried himself with dignity. He bowed ever so slightly and said, "Mrs. Williams, I must apologize for this horrible inconvenience we have caused you. We mean you no harm and I pray to God that your dignity is being respected."
Angie was startled by the man's sincerity. She answered, "I am being treated well, but why are you keeping me prisoner here?"
A look of anguish appeared on the man's face before he replied, "I know it is not proper to hold innocent women captive under the teachings of our holy book. It is a price I bear. We mean you no harm… Your husband has something of mine which must be returned. Let us enjoy the meal God has provided. We will speak more of this later."
He again bowed ever so slightly and motioned toward one of the settings at the table end. As she moved toward the chair, another man in waiter's attire appeared from behind one of the tapestries and held her chair out. Angie was seated. Her napkin was presented, and she noticed a bulge under the side of the waiter’s apron which appeared to be a gun. Her host or captor sat again at the head of the table. The candles were lit on the table and he asked, "May I pray?"
Without waiting for her to reply, he proceeded to pray in a language which she assumed was Arabic. He then repeated in English:
“Praise be to God, Lord of the Universe,
the Mercy-giving, the Merciful!
Ruler on the Day for Repayment!
You do we worship and You do we call on for help.
Guide us along the Straight Road,
the road of those whom You have favored,
with whom You are not angry,
nor who are lost!
Amen.”
When he had finished the prayer, he asked if she wanted to pray as well.
Angie was taken back for only a second by his request. She bowed her head and prayed, "Lord our father, I thank you for the gifts you have given. I ask for your help in this time of need and if it is your will, my safe release and the safety of Harry. Amen."
When she looked up the waiter again appeared from behind one of the tapestries and set a small salad in front of her. Her host said, "A good prayer. One I can pray also. If you would not mind, I would like to know what church you belong to?"
"Presbyterian."
"I am not as knowledgeable regarding the differences amongst Christian churches as I would like. It would seem to me the teachings of Calvin have a flavor most like the flavor of our holy book. The recognition of salvation being a gift of God to those chosen is the essence of m
y understanding of the great teachings of our holy book. Many Christian faiths do not seem to put enough emphasis on the horrors of hell and the need to lead a good life while here on earth."
"I'm not sure John Calvin would agree."
"No, it is very difficult for someone with strong belief to understand the beliefs of another. I was initially a great disappointment to my family because I preferred the study of science to religion. Living in America gave me the opportunity to immerse myself in the beautiful logic of science. I had no need for religion. To my immigrant parents, who had such a profound faith, this was a terrible burden. They foresaw me facing an eternity of suffering in hell."
Their conversation was disrupted by the serving of a seafood dish which smelled delightful although the spices were not easily recognizable to Angie. She at first wasn't going to eat because she feared her food would be poisoned, but something in her host's sincerity changed her mind. The setting and food were almost enough to make her forget that she had been kidnapped. A thought of how Harry enjoyed seafood was enough to cement her reality. She asked, "What does your disregard for ancestral faith have to do with my kidnapping?”
A fleeting expression of pain or tension crossed his face before he replied, "Actually, it has everything to do with it. Almost 4 years ago my wife died in an auto accident and my grief opened my eyes to another aspect of life. My science could not explain her death. Oh, it could explain the physiology of death, but it was an empty explanation. At the cemetery a simple prayer was recited 11 times and on the 11th recitation I finally understood. God is the source of everything. I realized my life had not been full and my wife's death was a gift from God. It opened my eyes and allowed me to receive the message of salvation."
"I am sorry for your loss, but what does this have to do with me?"
"Once my eyes were open I saw things. I realized my science needed to be used as a tool, not only to make things better here on Earth, but also to help others see the error of their ways and obtain salvation. America is a wonderful country; it has allowed me the greatest of opportunities in science and also to realize the greatness of God. An evil has pervaded this country of mine, of ours, and captured many of our fellow citizens. I now understand it is my duty to help free those held captive by this evil."
"What evil? And are you sure others want your help?"
"The evil is the curse of gambling which Satan has spread upon our land. The Teacher was quite specific in his teachings about gambling. Satan not only holds captive those addicted by this curse, he has also blinded others to this evil. It is now my life's work to open the eyes of my fellow citizens to this evil curse."
"I don't suppose you are planning a TV commercial in opposition."
"If only it was so easy. No, a statement needs to be made. This statement needs to have enough force to open the eyes of everyone to the work of Satan. I'm risking everything in my attempt to counteract this work of Satan."
"I still don't understand what this has to do with me."
"With God all things are possible. Your husband's research has led me to a way of creating the statement which will open peoples eyes."
"I thought you said Harry had something of yours. Now you're saying it was something in his research?"
"Is it not a wonderful expression of God's greatness that it was your husband's research which has given me the method to fight Satan and at the same time allow your Harry to interact again in this process? I am very much looking forward to meeting your Harry. Hopefully, he will soon return to me what is mine and then you will both be free to resume your lives."
"If Harry has something of yours, just ask him for it. I can't imagine Harry keeping anything that belonged to someone else if he knew they wanted it back."
"I would ask him except we haven't been able to contact him. Seems he's gone to Alaska. Do you have any idea why he'd go to Alaska this time of year?"
Angie looked puzzled and said, "I thought he was going fishing on the Deschutes. Guess he decided to go to Alaska instead."
"We know he went to the Deschutes River. He left for Alaska after we sent him the e-mail asking him to meet with us."
Angie just shrugged her shoulders. Her host asked, "Does he have friends in Alaska?"
"Harry doesn't have a lot of friends… One of his old Navy buddies does live somewhere in Alaska, though. Seems like I remember he's way out in the boondocks."
"That would explain why he's not responded to us. I hope he checks his e-mail soon so we can all resume our normal lives. What did your Harry do in the Navy?"
Angie was getting a little suspicious of the conversation and said, "Harry has never talked about his military life, but I know he did some diving. He keeps in contact with a few old friends, but I've never met them." She decided not to mention Harry's nightmares.
Their conversation was interrupted by a waiter offering dessert. It was a beautifully prepared fruit dish. Angie’s host explained how this had been his wife's favorite dish. Abruptly, a very serious looking man appeared, apologized for the interruption, but ignored Angie completely. Angie pretended to not hear the conversation but the man was so intense his voice carried. She heard snippets about a warrior and convulsions but it made no sense to her. Her host replied to the man's information very quietly and she only picked up a few words about expected rates of complications. The man left and her host explained, "I must apologize for the interruption. One of our companions has become ill and I needed to make arrangements for his medical care. We could use the surgical services of your Harry. His abilities seem to be highly regarded."
A delightful tea with a hint of peppermint was served and Angie took a small sip before replying, "I am a musician and know little of medicine. I do know that Harry works much too hard. And, it's difficult to maintain a marriage when everyone is asking so much of one of the partners."
"My wife and I also faced a similar issue. My dedication to science caused me to work long hours and have a sense of preoccupation. When my dear wife finally understood that my efforts were not just for myself, but rather also to redeem Arab science, she became more of a partner. We both needed to sacrifice the time together we so valued, but together we could accomplish so much more."
Angie listened to her host explain how Arab science, which was the basis for almost all of modern science, had fallen into such disregard. His long litany of all the different contributions made by his Arab ancestors was almost like a chant and she found herself thinking instead of Harry. Her attention was drawn back to the present when her host said, "You know, my dear wife and I were much like you and your Harry."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I had my commitment and dedication to science. My wife, like you, was dedicated to family first and her music second."
"You had children?"
"We have, I mean, I have two beautiful daughters who have inherited their mother's beauty and her music. You have no children?"
"Harry and I have talked about it but it seems our lives are too busy to dedicate ourselves to children. Maybe someday."
"Blessed be God. It was our gift of children which has given me strength to go on after my wife's death. I would counsel you to accept children as a gift of God. It is possible to lead a full life utilizing God's other gifts in the service of God and your fellow man. For a woman and a man, the rearing of children is the greatest gift from God."
Angie looked at her host and realized he had tears in his eyes. She asked, "Your children are not here with you, are they?"
"No. I am sorry. My emotions give me away. It is a time of possible danger and I have sent them to their grandparents. It is a burden I carry to do the will of my God." He then changed the course of conversation by asking, "Would you be willing to play the piano in my music room?"
"I'm a prisoner here and you want me to play the piano for you?"
"I'm sorry. It is an inappropriate request. Reading and listening to my
wife play the piano was one of my great joys. I apologize." He continued, "Does your Harry enjoy listening to you play?"
"He says so, but all he does is sit in his chair and read. I don't know if he really listens or not."
"I think your Harry is not so different from myself. My listening was not usually an active thing but rather a subconscious one which produced a mellowing of my soul. It wasn't until I lost my wife that I realized how important it was."
"I'll play."
Her host arose and simultaneously the waiter appeared and helped pull her chair back. One of the tapestries was held to the side and another ornate door opened. The room was more of a library than a music room and at the far end sat a white Bosendorfer concert grand piano. Angie walked up to the beautiful instrument gently touching the polished top. She sat at the keyboard and did a simple warm-up before starting to play "Clair De Lune." The room rang. Music poured forth and Angie let herself go in the classic notes. She did not even pause as she completed the first piece and moved on to other works by Debussy. It was a wonderful instrument and the room's acoustics seemed tuned to the sounds of the piano.
When she looked up her host was sitting in a reading chair with his eyes closed and his fingers formed a triangle on his lips. When he realized she was done playing he opened his eyes and smiled, "We obtained this piano shortly before my wife died. Hearing it come alive again was wonderful and I thank you for the gift which I did not deserve." He asked, "You and your Harry haven't been getting along too well, have you?"
"We're having a hard time."
"All marriages have hard times. If nothing else, I hope this unpleasant situation teaches both of you how important you are to each other. A good marriage is hard work and both parties must give more than 50% to make it work. You are a gem, and I think your Harry is one too, but maybe needs a little polishing. The art of being a good wife is to learn how to polish without scratching."
A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. There was a discussion in a language Angie did not understand and she heard her host raise his voice emphatically. After several minutes, he returned apologizing, "I am most sorry, but my project requires my attention. You will be escorted back to your quarters."
Angie wanted to ask his name but he was gone, and the guard who had escorted her had taken his place in the doorway. She arose from the piano bench and followed him back to the elevator.