Word Count: 102,008
Summary of Events:
Hilton ran out of gas not far from Cochabamba, but a benevolent man driving a truck Hilton thought would collapse in a stiff breeze managed to tow him to Cochabamba. Mackenzie was unsuccessful in finding a police station, instead the kidnappers found her and recaptured her as she'd been watching some boys play soccer. Hilton was driving around Cochabamba with absolutely no leads when a group of boys kicked their soccer ball into his car window; he asked them for help and they told him about Mackenzie's recapture. Mackenzie woke up later and made two escape attempts: one when the kidnappers picked up breakfast, and the other when they went to switch drivers, both failed. Hilton, thanks to the boys' aid, got to Sucre, but found himself leadless again; he tried to sleep, but sleep eluded him in his car, so he checked into a hotel to see if a real bed would help, but the thought of mobile phones kept bothering him . . .
Excerpt of the Day:
"Slipping out from under the covers, Hilton grabbed the bags from where they sat on the floor and brought them onto the bed. He set his bag to the side and opened Mackenzie's first one.
It was her garment bag. Hilton felt a rush of warm sensation wash over him. He was going through Mackenzie's clothes. He felt wretchedly inappropriate and mischievously devilish — like Mackenzie had said he was in Sarajevo.
Carefully he removed each article of clothing, feeling through it carefully for anything hard and rectangular. There was a plastic bag stuffed in the corner. Hilton peeked in it, but then left it alone. Her mobile wouldn't be in there.
He searched everything, but found nothing. He checked every single pocket in the bag and everything, but he didn't see anything. Hilton put everything back inside the bag and zipped it shut.
Taking up Mackenzie's bag, he began searching it. It was her purse. There was her wallet — which was of rather masculine design — and a change purse that looked homemade, a notebook, a handful of writing utensils, and more.
Hilton pulled everything out of her purse, but he found nothing. He felt the empty purse. There was nothing hidden in it that was mobile phone shaped. He put everything back in — hoping Mackenzie wouldn't mind the disarray.
Her mobile wasn't there. Now what did that mean? Well, quite obviously, it meant that Mackenzie had her mobile. It hadn't been on the floor — at least not that he'd seen, and he was sure he would've noticed something purple on the floor.
And he knew her number. So if her mobile was on then he could text her — as calling would be too dangerous, the kidnappers would hear — and then he could figure out where she was!
Quickly Hilton threw his clothes on, took up the bags — making doubly sure he left nothing behind — hurried down and checked out of the hotel, much to the astonishment of the receptionist.
Climbing into his car, Hilton pulled out his mobile. He paused before he turned it on. If he were to turn it on then the CIA would be able to track him. But he had to turn it on to contact Mackenzie and get a response.
So what if the CIA followed him? He'd be hot on the trail of the kidnappers, the CIA would be following him straight to where the kidnappers were hiding. So long as he kept ahead of the CIA he'd be fine.
Pressing the button, he held it and waited as his phone powered up. The CIA could follow him. They just couldn't catch him. They hadn't caught him in Mexico, and he wasn't going to let them catch him now. He'd just let them see him.
Hilton selected the app for texting. A notice appeared on the screen that he had over fifty messages. He'd read them later. He was sending one now.
He typed in Mackenzie's number, then paused to think about what he should say.
Mackenzie, this is Hilton. What city and country are you in?"
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