“Wolfgang Sebastian?” squawked Heathcliff, finally voicing something after several minutes of shocked silence. “You don’t mean that Wolfgang Sebastian that played with me and my darling when we were mere children?”
Ah, so that’s what it was. Wolfgang was a tiny boy (shorter than I was at the time) with an angelic face. He was always forced by Heathcliff to be the villain of his little games, and he always went along with it good-naturedly. But wait, Wolfgang was the son of the Dragon? Did that mean he knew me already?
“You are still children, my dear boy,” chuckled the Dragon. “But yes, he was your playmate all those years ago.”
“Really? I don’t remember it at all…” said Wolfgang, pondering.
“That was so long ago, how long now…perhaps 13 years? My, how time has passed! You were about this tall!” he pointed towards his knee.
“Sir, if you don’t mind, we must be going…someone had notified the Norths and they’re on their way,” said one of the terrorists. My family is on their way! Perhaps I can figure out a way to escape, but I need to stall.
“Excuse me, but I have a question,” I said cautiously. Wolfgang turned towards me and cocked his head to listen. “How are we getting to your hide-out? I assume that it’s rather far away, and reclusive, and I don’t see any quick method of transportation here.”
“She’s right, father,” said Wolfgang, turning to the Dragon. “All I see are heavy-armour trucks, and if we’re dealing with the Norths here, they’re going to have lighter and much faster vehicles.”
“We will be fine. I have my own way of getting to my place.” The Dragon gave Wolfgang a withering look, but he paid no heed.
“If we will be going into high-altitudes, we’ll need something that can fly. I have a helicopter back at the warehouse, so if we could go back…”
“We will not be flying, and this conversation is closed,” said the Dragon icily.
“Are we going on water?” asked Charlie, concerned. “I get slightly sea-sick…” The Dragon turned on Charlie, with rage glinting in his eyes, and I was afraid that the Dragon had lost patience and decided to execute us there and now. Thankfully, the Dragon’s rage seemed to have calmed down, and he just pats Charlie cordially on the head. “I’ll see what we can do, my dear boy.”
Wolfgang started up the argument again, and he and his father turned their backs towards us. Now was my chance.
“Heathcliff!” I hissed, and Heathcliff inched towards me.
“What is it, darling?” he said, in a slightly too loud voice. I shushed him, and he obliged, probably seeing the urgency in my expression. “What is it?” he asked softly.
“Do you have your phone on you?”
“Why yes, I do, actually.” He fished out one of the newest phones on the market out of his pocket. I believe that it was still supposed to be in its prototype stage.
“Does it have GPS tracking on it?”
“Ah! And do you have my number? Or any of the North family numbers?”
“Uh…I believe so. You’re not going to think any worse of me, are you?” asked Heathcliff rather nervously.
“Not any worse than I already think of you. Hand over the phone.”
Heathcliff obliged. I went through his contact list, and then saw my grandfather’s private number. “Why do you have this?” I asked. Grandfather only ever gave his number to a select number of people, and not many of them outside of the family.
“Well…I was sent by him to try to woo you, and I was supposed to keep him updated…”
Ugh! Grandfather’s up to his old tricks again, even after he said he wouldn’t bother me about suitors during my little vacation. “Whatever,” I shrugged. I dialed his number.
Grandfather picked up the phone on the second dial. “How did it go, Heathcliff?”
“Actually, it’s me.”
“Theo? What are you doing on Heathcliff’s phone? Don’t tell me—“
“No, he was not successful, nor did I beat him up and steal his phone. It’s a long story. But let’s just say we’ve been kidnapped by the Dragon and his son, and we’re almost on our way to his hide-out.”
“Are you alright?” Grandfather’s voice stayed calm; I expected no less from him.
“Perfectly fine. A little tired, at the most.”
“How are they getting there? Do you have a rough location?”
“I don’t know how, they’re arguing over it. And it’s somewhere in the mountains. I’m going to leave the GPS tracking on, so you can follow—“ The phone was suddenly snatched out of my hand.
“Well, well, well. Aren’t you clever?” said one of the terrorists. One of his colleagues grabbed my hands and put them behind my back. “Boss, what should I do with it?”
“Give it to me.” He took the phone from the terrorist. He smirked, mostly at me.
“Why hello, Damian. Talking to you brings so many memories back. How are you?”