I tried to open the lock on the nearest door but couldn’t. My mind ran as fast as the limo, conflicting thoughts and fears bumping into each other, anger coming to the fore one moment, replaced by heart-pounding fear the next. Most prevailing was the sense of hopelessness, of impotency. There was nothing I could do except wait until we got to where we were going and see what that situation brought. I thought of movies I’d seen in which a kidnap victim has the presence of mind to observe landmarks to be used later when the abductors are brought to justice and put on trial. I would have tried to do that, too, except the combination of night, and the darkened windows, made it impossible to get a fix on anything. I did sense one thing, however. We were leaving the city proper and heading into a less populated area. That was even more frightening. Was I being taken to some remote location to be killed? Why would anyone want to kill me? What had I done? As far as I knew, my only action was to agree to deliver a lover’s note to a young Russian woman who also happened to be a writer.
