Danny glanced up from his booth facing the door and jumped to his feet as he saw Fenny and her dark-haired friend enter the café. Fenny, looking just as he remembered her, though a bit frazzled and genuinely terrified, caught his eye and headed right for him, catching him off guard when she threw her arms around his neck.

“God, Danny, I’ve been so worried about you,” she declared, her voice sounding panicky as she talked into his neck. “I’m so tremendously sorry that you had to get caught up in all of our problems, it’s so fabulous of you to want to help, especially after everything that’s happened. It’s great to see you again, I just wish it didn’t have to be with us dodging bullets and scared to death and with people gone missing.”

Fenny swallowed a rising urge to kiss the flesh of his neck that was looking so wrongly tempting as he stroked her back comfortingly. Instead she pulled away and glanced at the booth Danny had adopted, where Ritza sat with one eyebrow raised at the pair. Fenny sat across from her, twisting her rings around her fingers in a nervous gesture. After a moment of thought, Danny sat next to Fenny.

“So, you must be the infamous Ritza,” Danny nodded a bit warily. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Greg.”

“And you’re Danny,” Ritza countered. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Brad.”

Fenny had the distinct feeling that neither one had heard anything particularly good about the other, so she changed the subject to the matter at hand before anything unpleasant could begin. “Speaking of which, we’re looking for them, along with Gina and Paul. Can you get us up to speed, Danny? I’m not entirely sure what’s going on anymore. All I know is Gina and Paul had an argument or something and Greg played the tape about Amsterdam, and Don’s threatening all sorts of nasty things about Greg, and a bunch of heavies took off with Brad. Any holes you can fill in for us?”

Danny took a deep breath and nodded. “Um, well…that’s about it, really. The only thing Greg and I had to go on was an airstrip just out of town, so when we got here we headed for it, turns out the car we hired was rigged to blow up. Greg reckons whoever’s in charge of this thing, they’ve been tracking us. He got me out before it went up, so we hitched back to town, got a couple hotel rooms to clean up, and he was gone. When I got back to my room to properly freak out, I turned around and there was a guy with a gun.” Danny paused to rub the bridge of his nose, trying to believe what he was saying, trying not to think that he’d actually lived it.

“How did you get away?” Fenny pried gently.

“Smacked him with the Bible,” he said with a rather perverse chuckle.

“Good one,” Ritza said with a cautious smile.

“Good to know they’re there for a reason,” Fenny shrugged. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just great. Kinda nervous that I’m running around Amsterdam with a gun I stole off a guy who tried to smear my brains across bad wallpaper while four people I know are being held captive by some sick fucker, yeah, I’m fine.” Danny took a deep breath as Fenny squeezed his arm. “What about you guys, how are you doing?”

“Haven’t been in town long,” Fenny shrugged. “Takes basically all day to get here from LA. But we did have time last night for Brad to disappear and for Ritz here to break a heavy’s face in and make his friend nearly piss himself with fear. Got their guns and took off.”

“Well thank god for that,” Danny said, looking almost thankfully at Ritza. Maybe he had her pegged wrong after all. “I mean the daring escape, not the Brad gone missing bit.”

“Yeah, I know,” Fenny smiled.

“What do we do now?” Danny asked.

“You said something about an airstrip?” Ritza asked.

“Yeah, there’s one on the map, out in the middle of nowhere really, Greg said that sounded like a good place to check. I don’t know what we’d be looking for, though.”

“It’s as good a place as any to start,” Ritza shrugged. “Might find some clue as to where they’re headed.”

“Let’s go then,” Danny perked, sliding out of the booth.

“What should we do with him?” Gina asked.

“We could shoot him,” Paul perked.

“You don’t have the balls,” the heavy sneered, but continued driving none the less.

“I shot your boss with his partner’s gun,” Paul declared coolly. “How did you think we got away?”

“Let’s just dump him somewhere,” Gina suggested.

“Just keep driving,” Paul ordered and climbed into the passenger seat, Gina perching on the back seat, gun still plainly leveled on the driver. Paul popped open the glove compartment and pulled out a map of Amsterdam and its environs, taking note of a couple places marked in black pen – the Savoy, what he assumed to be Claudia’s apartment, the airstrip they’d landed at, and something that looked from the icon scribbled by a hand completely unhindered by any artistic merit to be a windmill. There was a patch of city on the outskirts of town that was conveniently distant from all of Don’s other landmarks.

With a quick glance around at street signs, Paul got his bearings and instructed the heavy to turn left. After about ten minutes of Paul giving driving directions, he instructed him to stop the car outside a hotel. The heavy frowned at himself. “What are you playing at,” he grumbled.

Paul folded up the map and carefully placed it back in the glove box before picking up his gun. “Get out, go into the hotel and book a room. And don’t do anything stupid ‘cause we’re coming with you and we’ve still got your gun.”

“You’re getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?” the heavy grumbled.

“Just giving you a taste of your own medicine,” Paul declared, gesturing for Gina to get out of the car. She slid out on the heavy’s side, opened the door for him, and watched as he stepped out dejectedly, Paul climbing over the gear stick to follow. The brute stood there for a moment, obviously weighing his options, until Gina gave him a less than gentle shove in the rear with her foot, and he stumbled forward, towards the hotel lobby. He did as instructed and went to the desk, shooting glances backward at Gina and Paul who waited behind, watching him carefully. Paul was pleased to note the posh interior and that getting himself kidnapped was going to cost the heavy a pretty penny.

Once Don’s driver was given a room key, Paul and Gina accompanied him into the room, removed the telephone cord, which Gina took for safe keeping, and locked him in. “You can’t do this to me,” the heavy screeched from the other side of the door.

“Sorry mate, we just did,” Paul perked with a friendly thump on the door.

“Enjoy your stay,” Gina added, slipping the ‘do not disturb’ sign onto the handle of the door so that the maids wouldn’t inadvertently let him out as they had a tendency to do from time to time.

“Nice touch,” Paul smiled as they headed for the elevators.

“You can only be kidnapped so many times before you start picking things up,” Gina smiled, dropping the key into the nearest bin. “Now what?”

“We save Proops’ arse,” Paul chimed, pushing the ‘down’ button.

“Will you stop with the radio already,” Ritza groaned.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that this European techno music is very conducive to the situation at hand,” Fenny declared, continuing to scour through the various stations in their simple, as yet unexploding car. Danny had insisted on seeing the rental car company’s licenses to do business and a very clear receipt of sale so that, “In case we die, we’ll know who to blame,” which had no doubt confused the poor woman who had given them the car.

“Well what do you want then, Fen, a collection of James Bond theme songs? The Batman song maybe? Captain America?” Ritza sneered from the back seat.

“We’re sure as hell not listening to Celine Dion again, I can tell you that much right now.”

Ritza folded her arms across her chest and Fenny discovered a classic rock station that suited her needs well enough. Danny sighed as he continued down the country road, wondering just how long it would take before the two women went for each other’s throats. Fenny had obviously calmed down after Ritza had dealt with their attackers, but it was looking like that calm wouldn’t last indefinitely.

It was all very surreal, really, to be seeing Fenny again, especially under such circumstances. He told himself not to think back to the time they’d spent together, that poor Fenny was coming apart because her husband was missing, but he still couldn’t get the image of her stripping off his Sydney Swans top and crawling into his bed so he could kiss every inch of her body out of his head. No, that was exactly the type of thought he should be avoiding.

The old, abandoned airfield came into view and Danny was grateful for the distraction. A quick, nervous glance around revealed an absence of planes, cars and people, and he hoped that was a good sign.

“So, what do you think?” Fenny asked as Danny pulled up close to a shack-like building and they piled out.

“A little obvious, too cliché for my taste, but yeah, wouldn’t surprise me if they’d been here.” Ritza wandered across the runway, probably looking for clues of some sort, followed by Fenny and Danny who were trying to be useful but couldn’t hide the fact that they were painfully inept at this sort of thing. “Not the cleanest people, obviously,” she remarked, kicking a bottle of beer that had been left in a patch of grass off to the side. It tipped over and the beer fizzled out, revealing the droplets of condensation on the sides of the bottle: it was cold and it was fresh. “Fuck,” Ritza hissed. “Back in the car, run.”

“What?” Fenny gasped as Danny grabbed her by the hand and they bolted for the car. A van roared out of the hanger at the end of the runway, followed by a town car, which screeched to a halt in front of the sprinting trio, and they skidded to a stop, Fenny slipping and falling to her knees before being pulled upright, Danny and Ritza each grabbing an arm. Three car doors opened in unison and Ritza pulled out her gun, elbowing Fenny to do likewise. With shaking hands, Fenny and Danny pulled their guns from under their shirts.

“Shitshitshit,” Fenny murmured.

“I’m going to die,” Danny declared.

“On the count of three,” Ritza began in a hurried whisper, “fire off a round into the dirt and run for the car.”

“You can’t be—”

“One, two, three,” Ritza counted, heedless of Fenny’s protest.

Two shots rang out and Ritza and Danny sprinted past the car and its men, who were reaching for their own guns. Fenny was so surprised that her gun didn’t go off that she paused for a moment before tearing off after her friends. “If I’d known you people weren’t loading your guns I would’ve been able to—”

Her tirade was cut short as she was tackled to the ground from two directions, two heavy bodies knocking the wind from her as she tried to scream.

“Keep running,” Ritza ordered as she noticed Danny falter. He did as he was told and continued running, feeling guilty as his sense of self-preservation won out over any sense of heroism he may have mustered. “We’re outnumbered, and I don’t think they want us.”

He slammed into the side of the car and clumsily jumped behind the wheel as Ritza went around and slid in next to him. He looked in the rearview mirror to see Fenny being bustled into the back of the car harshly. “What now, what the fuck do we do now?”

“Follow them,” Ritza breathed.

“Right.”

Brad woke to the sound of the ocean and an intense need to relieve his bladder. The memory of what had happened washed over him suddenly and he frowned at himself through the headache that had formed. Judging by the few stray beams of sun that shone into his room, he guessed it was probably late into the morning. They seemed to have been sailing for quite some time, but with such a shoddy boat, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Idly wondering where he was being taken, he wished he’d paid more attention to his geography lessons in school.

He ran his hands over Paul’s poem, smiling at the odd sort of comfort it brought him. They’d managed to overcome a hell of a lot, they’d certainly overcome this. If his kidneys didn’t explode first. He stood up, trying to stretch his muscles, sore from a night on the cold, hard floor of the boat, and wondered what his punishment would be for relieving himself in Don’s cargo. Before he was able to enact such a plan, the door flew open and the silhouette of one of the bull baboons Don employed appeared hunched over in the doorway. “Here,” he huffed, “put these on.” A canvas duffel bag was dropped at Brad’s feet.

“Is there a bathroom around here I can use?” Brad asked cheerfully.

“After you get dressed,” the man barked.

“What’s wrong with the clothes I’ve got on? If there’s a dress code you should warn people before you knock them out and kidnap them, I would have been more than happy to get a tie from my room if you’d just asked.”

“Shut up and get dressed.”

“Are we going to a party?” Brad asked cheekily as he pulled a suit from the bag.

“It’ll be your funeral if you don’t cooperate.”

“Touché,” Brad grumbled. His mind flicked back to Don dressing Gina up so she could deal for him. “If I put on these clothes, am I going to be involved in something illegal?”

“When you put on those clothes, you’re going to be helping repay the debt you owe Mr. McIver.”

“Sounds like fun,” Brad nodded miserably. “What about the others, are they—”

“Shut the fuck up and just get dressed,” the heavy barked.

“Not while you’re looking,” Brad sneered impertinently and the heavy slammed the door, although the fact that light no longer filtered in indicated he was waiting just outside. Brad sighed and kicked off his shoes. “Why is it every time I turn around things just keep getting worse,” he mumbled to himself as he pulled his t-shirt over his head.

“You honestly think these guys are cheap enough to use a Dutch windmill as a prison for Greg?” Gina asked.

Paul checked the map again, looking up at the dilapidated and disused windmill the car was idling in front of. “How hard could it be to break out of a place like that?” he smirked. “Of course this is Proops we’re talking about.”

“Don said he was drugged,” Gina supplied.

“When isn’t he?”

“You shouldn’t be so terrible about a guy we’re supposed to be rescuing,” she pointed out.

“Right, rescuing. Any plans?”

“Take the guns, go in there, maybe split up to increase the odds, hope for the best?”

“Right,” Paul nodded. “No cars around, unless there’s a garage somewhere. Do windmills come with built in garages?”

“I don’t know. They could’ve taken a taxi.”

“Roller skates.”

“Hang gliders.”

“We’re stalling.”

“You’re right.”

“Let’s go.”

They slid out of the car and made their way gingerly to the door, which swung open easily. “Think it’s a trap?” Gina asked.

“Oh, probably,” Paul sighed. “Greg better appreciate I’m putting my arse in mortal danger for him.”

“He’s done it enough times for you,” she pointed out.

“Right. You wanna take the stairs, or should I?”

“I’ll go,” Gina said, taking a deep breath. “Gives me more time to brace myself.” She mounted the stairs and Paul watched as she ascended into the darkness before nodding to himself and exploring the few small chambers below.

Greg was beginning to go stir crazy, having been left alone with nothing but the creaking of the building and thoughts of what could be happening to the others to keep him occupied. Certainly Gina and Paul would be able to cope a while, but he wasn’t at all sure how Danny would be holding up, and he felt pangs of regret for dragging him into something he wouldn’t know how to deal with, certainly not alone. Greg could only hope that Amy and her thugs hadn’t bothered to deal with him.

He heard footsteps scrambling along the stairs outside his room and he abandoned his game of writing naughty things in the layer of grime on the window and decided to demand cigarettes when Amy entered. Maybe it would provide enough of a distraction for him to push her down the stairs or something. He definitely didn’t want to spend any more time in some stupid abandoned windmill, certainly not when he was in such desperate need for a pack of cigarettes, trapped with some crazed woman who was eager to shoot him.

The door creaked open cautiously. “Listen lady, if I don’t get a pack of Marlboros in the next five minutes, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

“I keep telling you you need to cut down.”

“Gina?” Greg’s heart leapt into his throat, not knowing whether she was on a rescue mission or if Don was dumping her and Paul into the windmill for safe keeping. He didn’t care either way: Gina was safe.

“Hey Speccy,” she smiled, stepping into the room. “You okay?”

“Me, yeah, sure, fine, great. What about you, are you hurt, it’s so great to see you’re safe.” Before he could stop himself he took two strides towards her and wrapped her up in his arms, hugging her close.

“I’m doing good,” she said into his chest, holding him to her.

Almost out of instinct, Greg kissed Gina’s forehead. “Why do you smell like dope?”

Gina gave a wry smile and promptly changed the subject. “Is there someone around we should be worried about?”

“No, she’s been gone for hours. What happened to you, we thought Don had you.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Gina asked curiously as she pulled away.

“Me and Danny, um, Brannigan. He’s the guy who found out you and Paul were missing.”

“Dan’s involved?”

“Yeah.”

“Poor guy,” she mused. “He okay? Where is he?”

“Dunno, we kinda got split up. What happened to you?”

“Don’s heavies knocked me out, dragged me to a hotel room, Don tried to have his way with me, Paul escaped from Claudia’s clutches, shot Don, and we hijacked a heavy’s car and found a map with your windmill on it, thought it was worth a go. What happened to you?”

“Dan and I found a tape of your kidnappers talking about Amsterdam, called Fen and Brad, flew here, got a car from the bad guys that tried to blow us up, got picked up by an American woman who we thought was cool but she drugged me and I woke up here.”

“But you’re safe,” Gina said.

“Nicotine cravings and death threats not withstanding, yeah. And you too?”

“Yeah.” Greg wrapped an arm around Gina’s shoulders, and she reciprocated the gesture, slipping her own around his waist.

“Now all we have to do is worry about Dan, Fen, Brad and Ritza.”

“Ritz—” Gina began as they turned towards the door.

“And him.” Amy appeared in the doorway and shoved Paul into the room. He staggered, fell against Greg, and smiled up at him as he regained his footing.

“Proops, good to see you’re alive, man.”

“Not for long,” Amy hissed.

“Fuck,” Greg grumbled.

Fenny leaned back in her seat trying to catch her breath. The monolith of a man who had dragged her into the car still had a firm grip on her wrist, but she knew from experience that struggling with him would have been useless anyway. The car door was locked electronically and there was no mechanism she could see to fix that. Well, from the looks of things, the five that had gotten on Don’s bad side to begin with were captured, that should be interesting. With any luck they’d leave poor Danny and Ritza alone.

Almost as an afterthought, she turned to look out the back window, wincing at the pinching pain in her chest and the tightening of fingers on her wrist. Just as she suspected, Danny and Ritza were following them, but they in turn were being followed by the black van.

The beeping of a cell phone caught her attention and she turned briefly back towards the front of the car. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you, missy,” the driver chirped with a greasy smirk in the mirror as the heavy next to him talked in hushed tones into his phone.

Fenny snapped back around just in time to see the van smash up against the side of the car with a metallic squeal. Ritza was gesturing wildly and Danny was struggling with the steering wheel. The van veered again and pushed the car off the road into a ditch, the van slowing down and making a U-turn back towards the airfield. Fenny watched in horror as Danny and Ritza’s car rocked dangerously, threatening to turn onto its side. “Damn it,” she grumbled to herself as she lost sight of them as she was driven down a side street surrounded by trees.

She flumped back on her seat and choked down the lump in her throat. For all she knew, her husband and four of her closest friends could be dead, and from the looks of things and the painfully charged atmosphere in the car, she could very well be next.