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"Did Constable Richard know about this kidnapping?"

"I didn't tell him, though I did try. He kept telling me I was a runaway and wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise." said Alex.

"Sounds like him, it does. I'm going to have some serious words with him," she said before realizing she had spoken aloud. Likely as not, he's off to get a pint and didn't want to do anything that might require paperwork. He's got quite an aversion to it.

"Right, then, suppose you tell me about your kidnapping."

Alex knew he was in trouble. He hadn't planned a story. He decided to stall. "I'm hungry. I haven't eaten in a long time. Could I have something to eat first, please?" asked Alex in as piteous voice as he could muster. He hoped she had seen the headlines on the tabloids and hoped that it would lend credence to his story.

Constable Elizabeth went into mother-mode, and dropped the questioning. She procured some food from the officer's dining area and got a can of Schweppes Lemonade from the vending machine. "This is on me," said Elizabeth.

"Thanks," said Alex eating the food. His mind was still racing trying to put together a story that someone would believe. Shit. I should have planned this out. I hope I don't screw up and contradict myself.

"If you're almost done, we do need to get on with the questioning. I have to make a report. In the meantime, we've got someone trying to get your parents on the phone."

Great, thought Alex darkly. "Great," said Alex in a pleasant tone.

Another five minutes passed while Alex ate. He really was hungry, he found out as he finished his food. "Can I go to the bathroom, please?" he inquired.

"Sure. This way, please," and she led him towards a door marked "Gents' WC." He went in. When he came back out a few moments later, she was standing by the door. While not obvious, he was sure she was standing guard.

There was a shout from down the hall, "Is that him? Can we have photos?"

"Dear God, Fleet Street's found out about it already. Damn whomever has the bleeding loud mouth!" she yelled. "Someone get those men out of here! This is a minor and we can't have this." Several officers came running.

"Quick, come back to my office," she whispered at Alex. They went into the office and the sounds of shouting and scuffling faded into the distance. She said, "Why don't you tell the story straight through and then I'll ask questions when you're done. I'm going to record it."

Finally, Alex, saw no way to stall for more time. He definitely didn't want this recorded. He couldn't deny saying anything later. He better get it right the first time. "Well, it's simple really. I mean, it's not simple. No, what I mean is I don't know much, so what I have to say is simple," began Alex who was irritated with himself for being so tongue-tied.

"I had gone outside and was deciding whether to take the tube or a cab to the airport. I decided to take a cab rather than the tube since it would take me right to the door of my airline. So I walked up to the corner, where there's more traffic, and tried to flag a cab down," Alex was uncomfortable lying when he didn't have it planned out. He knew the story was weak. He hoped the officer's questions would help him fill in the many holes in his story. He knew there would be questions. Lots of them.

"So, I get in this cab that pulls up. He asks me 'where to'. I tell him that I'm off to Heathrow. I suppose right then I should have know something was up. I didn't see a meter, but it didn't register immediately. I don't suppose we were even going the right direction. I don't know London well enough to tell, but there were no road signs directing traffic towards the airport. I assume you'd have those. The driver was chatty, an older fellow and he asked me lots of questions, none of it important just light conversation type stuff. He asked me if I was alone or not, and I told him I was. He asked me about the weather, the sights I saw, and so forth. A typical conversation with a stranger, I suppose." Alex took a break, had some more lemonade, and kept talking.

"So he pulls into a gas station and tells me he needs a bit more gas. Says he won't charge me extra fare for the delay. That's when I noticed there was no meter. I decided to leave and go find another cab or maybe a cop. I get out of the cab and start to walk away towards a street that looked busy. He notices and then he starts chasing me. I break into a run. That's where I made my mistake. About half-way down the street, I turn around to see if he's getting closer. I ran into something. I guess it was his partner. I turn around to ask for help and this tall guy put a cloth over my face with something that smells bad. I don't remember anything else." Alex finished his lemonade, and decided to finish his elaborate lie.

"I awakened in a small room. There wasn't much in it but a cot. Food was brought to the room eventually, though I didn't see who slipped it in the door because it happened so quickly. Other than the door opening for them to put in the food, I heard no noises or voices. I couldn't understand what was going on or why I was captive. There was a smoked-glass window but it had some bars over it. I remembered I had a Swiss Army knife in my backpack. I undid the screws on one of the bars, and as the bar came loose I gently took it and lay it down on the bed so it wouldn't make any noise. I got the window open, which scared me because it made some noise. Fortunately, it was a first floor window. I dropped out my stuff, then I jumped out to the street with not too much difficulty. Then I went towards the nearest tube station. And that's where I found your officer."

"First, why didn't you ask the first person you saw for help?"

"I didn't know if they'd be working for him or not. I figured a cop would be safest."

"Why didn't you go to a phone, a store, or somewhere else?"

"I just figured the tube station would be guaranteed to have security. I knew if I passed one along the way, I could always stop him. I guess part of me was planning on finishing my trip to Heathrow on the tube. I guess that wasn't too bright."

"When you escaped from the car in the first place, why didn't you scream?"

"I was afraid. I didn't think of that. I thought to run."

"Alexander, I think you're making this whole thing up."

"I am not!" Alex protested loudly.

"Your story seems solid, but my policeman's instinct tells me it's as rotten as the food on the push-carts in Hyde Park."

"Well, it's the truth."

"Well this really is between you and your parents. I'm going to fill out the report using everything you told me. I'm also going to note my opinion in the report that you've made the whole thing up. I think you got it in your head to extend your vacation a little, or maybe you met someone you wanted to spend time with alone. Did you meet some girl?"

"No, that's not it! My story is true!" protested Alex again.

"No, it isn't. Kidnap victims don't normally take their luggage with them, nor do their captors bother to return it to the victims once they're in the room that serves as their cell. I think you're lying."

Alex was panicked. But what could he do? Fortunately, before he had to deal with it any further, an unfamiliar officer came in the door, "Well, Alex, we spoke to your parents. They're happy we've found you. We're to put you on the next flight home. Constable Elizabeth is to take you to Heathrow and put you on the next flight to San Francisco. She'll gather your things into a car."

Alex was escorted to the front of the station. He was kept under the careful eye of a constable. After what seemed an interminable period of time, the constable who was watching Alex answered the call of his radio. "Right, then. Your car is here. Come along young sir."

Alex was escorted the door of the police car. In the car, constable Elizabeth was waiting. They drove around to the font of the police station as the officers opened the gate to the yard. There was a mob of reporters there. "I'd suggest you slouch down low, Alex," suggested Elizabeth as the flashbulbs went off in quick succession.

Oddly, at this moment Alex wondered about Nicky. What the Hell am I thinking about him again for? Alex knew, though, that Nicky, for better or worse, had left an impression on him. I'll probably never get him out of my head. I'm not sure if that's something I should be angry about or happy about.

After some driving, Elizabeth pulled into an official looking building. There was a guard at the gate, who was obviously expecting her as he opened the gate immediately.

"Where are we?" asked Alex wondering why they hadn't gone to the airport.

"The American Embassy. They want to send a representative with you as well. Once we get to the security gate at Heathrow, I'll turn you over to him or her; they'll stay with you until you board the plane."

As she pulled up to the side door, a tall lady stepped out. "I'm Elizabeth and I'll be representing the interests of the United States in this matter."

"Lovely," said Constable Elizabeth. What an irritating coincidence. "Get right on in the car then and we'll be off." Elizabeth made it a point not to introduce herself.

Emissary Elizabeth slipped into the back seat and sat in the middle. "So how are you Alex? Everything well? Recovering from your ordeal?"

"Did you know that you have the same name as the constable?" asked Alex neatly deflecting the barrage of questions.

"You don't say. I must have missed the introduction. But, you didn't answer my questions did you?"

Alex knew he better say something. "Well I've been questioned thoroughly by the police, so I'm sure you can hear all the reports there. The kidnappers didn't cause me any harm."

They spent the rest of the trip in silence. Constable Elizabeth escorted them to the British Airways counter where they went to the front of the line. "I believe you have a ticket on file for this gentleman." Already a few reporters were making a beeline towards the counter.

"Yes, we do," said the agent. "I'll need your passport, young sir."

"Here," said Alex handing the passport to the agent.

"Have you any luggage, young sir?"

"Yes, I have one small suitcase to check. I'm also carrying my backpack on with me." said Alex muttering to himself how tired he was of this young sir business. I mean, wouldn't just plain old sir do?

The gate agent gave Alex his ticket, luggage claim, and boarding pass. "Will either of you be going through security? You'll need a pass."

Constable Elizabeth said, "No, I'll be escorting them to security. This lady here will escort him until the plane departs." The gate agent typed a few more things and handed Emissary Elizabeth a gate pass. "That will help."

"Thanks very much."

Finished at the ticket counter, they headed towards the security gates and noticed they were being followed by what was a small herd of reporters. As they began to walk more quickly in order to escape their pursuers, the reporters kept up the pace while whipping out their cameras and snapping pictures frantically.

They arrived at the security counter with the herd of photographers and reporters coming up, clamouring for comments. Constable Elizabeth looked at emissary Elizabeth and said "I'll turn him over to you. Good luck with this lot, but you should be fine once you clear security. " She turned her head towards Alex and added under her breath so the reporters couldn't hear, "Goodbye, Alex. Good luck. Oh, and for the record, one last thing: we also don't believe your story because your kidnapper had no motive." And with that she walked away.

Elizabeth and Alex proceeded through the security gates without any trouble. Of course the photographers and reporters all tried to enter and, not having tickets, were barred. They argued with security and soon there was a big row in progress and the police came running. The passengers waiting in line all stopped and stared. Finally, after much commotion, the reporters were contained and not allowed to pass through security. Many reporters had already pulled out cellular phones and were attempting to call their respective offices to try and get by security into the gate area.

Alex and Elizabeth made some brief small-talk while waiting for the boarding call, but mostly Alex sat in silence. After almost an hour, they began boarding the plane. Although Alex's seat was in the middle, Elizabeth escorted Alex onto the plane first to make sure he got there. She then exited the aircraft and waited by the plane door to make sure he stayed there. She watched all the people board. And more importantly to her, she watched all the people who got off the plane in case Alex tried to sneak out among the service workers.

As soon as he was seated, Alex opened up a book he bought while in London. He went to many of the bookstores on Charing Cross Road. They were all good, but Foyle's was the monster bookstore to end all bookstores. He bought quite a few books, many of which he'd never seen in the States. He had also picked up a copy of the first Harry Potter book, which he found remarkable because the title was different that the American edition. Alex was in his seat for the long flight home, and due to good fate he was in a side row and had no seat mate for the flight.

As the flight boarded, he was reading the English Harry Potter book, even though he had read the American edition before. He was deeply engrossed in the book and didn't pay attention to those boarding the plane or any of the myriad of other activities taking place around him.

The plane door shut, and the stewardess began the pre-flight announcements as the aircraft pulled away from the gate. Suddenly, thoughts of Nicky popped into his head and he was unable to concentrate on the book any longer.

"As the King commands," said Nicky. But to himself he was thinking: how can I do this? He was certain Alex would have overheard and left his hiding place, but he ran there as fast as he could. It was no surprise it was empty. He then shuffled off dejectedly to his room, sorely disappointed in this assignment. I have to think of a way to deal with this. He came to his door and went in, clearly in no hurry to begin this assignment.

Nicky began packing a small backpack, taking his time. He decided that was the simplest way to travel. He packed a few days' clothes, his flute, and a book to read. It took some rummaging, but he finally found his passport, knowing the trail would lead to America. He thought again and packed some of the money they used up top.

He worked his way towards the tube station. Nobody stopped him or interfered. They all knew he was on his mission. He passed the guard who saluted as he walked by. He took the next train that stopped all the way down to King's Cross station and changed to the Picadilly Line in hopes of finding Alex somewhere.

He was restless on the train, eyes darting about furtively, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alex, knowing deep down he was long gone. As the train pulled into Holborn station, the man next to him got up, left the train, leaving his newspaper behind. Nicky figured he'd read it to pass the time.

He unfolded it to see the front page. He nearly pissed his pants as he saw the headline "Missing Boy Found: Kidnap Mystery?" Suddenly riveted, he read on to find out that Alex had been found by a tube worker and turned in. The story gave a remarkable story about Alex's kidnapping. Nicky wondered how long it took him to make that story up. He was thankful Alex didn't tell the truth. That would have been a serious issue with major repercussions.

Nicky started to think. Where was Alex from? He kept reading the article in hopes of finding an answer. Alex was to be repatriated to the States this very day. But where in the states? The article went on, "His parents are from San Bruno, California, a community just south of San Francisco, and are expected to meet the British Airways flight when it arrives. They have firmly stated they will not speak to reporters." Nicky laughed to himself and was certain they would.

Nicky decided to take the train straight to Heathrow and try and find Alex before the flight. Impatiently, Nicky began tapping on the metal handrail nearby whilst wishing the train would move faster. Some of the passengers gave him looks as he continued to disturb the peace. As the train grew near to Heathrow, Nicky began to get increasingly restless and tap faster. Finally the train pulled into the Heathrow tube station. Nicky had never had flown, although he had been to airports any number of times to see off departing family or meet arriving family. He certainly hoped he could find Alex and deal with this situation quickly.

He exited the station and went to the British Airways terminal. After all, that's what airline the paper said Alex would be on. He saw the monitors and figured out which flight Alex would likely be on. He looked at the various lines, trying to figure out which one to stand in. He finally asked and was pointed to a queue. He impatiently stood in the interminably slow moving queue. After what seemed an eon, he arrived at the head of the line.

"Next, please!"

"I'd like to buy a ticket on the next flight to San Francisco."

"When are you returning?"

"I don't know yet. Can't I buy a one way ticket?"

"Certainly. May I have your passport please?"

The agent surreptitiously pressed the emergency button. He knew that the passenger in front of him wasn't old enough to be buying a one-way ticket out of the country. That meant he was probably a runaway. What would his parents think?

Nicky handed him the passport.

"Ah, yes Mr. Nikolai, I'm calling up a reservation right now. Now, you understand that since it's a one-way ticket and not a return ticket, you'll be paying more. And, of course, without the seven-day APEX fare, it's even worse. However, I think we can book this for around £700 or so."

"Seven hundred fucking pounds?" yelled Nicky.

"There is no cause for that sort of language young sir," said the agent hoping security would arrive any moment.

"'Cor, I can think of seven hundred reasons for that bloody sort of language." Nicky reached for his wallet to see what he might have in the way of cash. He could always go to the ATM but that much cash would dry him out completely.

At that moment a pair of security officers came around and were heading straight towards Nicky. He noticed them and knew something wasn't right. He leaned forward, snatched his passport and took off running.

The bobby's whistle sounded, "Stop! Stop!"

Nicky ran on, trying to figure out what to do. He saw the gate area, but knew there was no way he was getting through the security gate. He had to figure this out. He ducked into a small restaurant as the policemen came around the corner, and hoped they didn't see him. As soon as he entered, he walked slowly so as not to arouse the suspicions of the patrons.

He asked the first waiter, "Where's the 'loo?"

The waiter replied by pointing his finger towards the back. Nicky went that way as quickly as he could without looking suspicious. He ducked in, went in the first stall, and put on a different shirt and pair of pants, switching with what was in his backpack. He mussed his hair up and combed it differently. It wasn't much but hopefully the officers hadn't seen him very well.

He composed himself as best as he could, mentally reaching for every ounce of courage and walked out of the restaurant. He noticed in the front of the terminal there were now more police looking around. He bent his head forward and walked over to security. He went to one of the officers on duty.

"Excuse me, sir, I have a problem."

"What's that?"

"Well, my parents have gone through."

"So, what's it to me?"

"Well they have my ticket. I didn't realize it but I guess my mother had all three of the tickets."

"I can't do much."

"Please, sir, my flight is leaving soon. I have my passport." Nicky pulled out the passport, doing his best to look innocent. He recited the flight number and gate he had seen on the screen earlier. He hoped this guy would fall for it, or he'd be doomed.

The security guard nodded to a woman officer who came over. He recited the story to her, she looked at his passport, scrunched her brow a bit. "Oh, let him go. He's just a kid. Look at him. His parents will probably be here any minute looking for him and the flight leaves soon."

Outside the police were scouring the airport for him, confident there was no way their suspect had cleared security.

Nicky went to the gate area, which was now mostly empty. He didn't see any way to get on the plane. He knew there would be trouble. He had to get on. Damn, if this were only like a novel, and some miracle happened. He knew it wasn't to be.

Finally, he got an idea. He went to a phone and called the travel agency his father used when they went on holiday. "I need a ticket to San Francisco," and he went on to relay the flight information.

"That's awfully short notice," said the agent to the sound of typing fingers. "We only have full fare available."

"I don't care. I have to be on that flight."

"One second."

Nicky sat there as they announced last call to board.

"I can get you there about an hour later for much less. We'll book you to Los Angeles and you can connect back to San Francisco."

"No, that will not do. I must be on this flight."

The door to the jetway closed.

"Sir, that flight is closed. You won't be able to board even if I sold you a ticket."

Nicky swore violently and none-too-quietly.

"Sir! That's most unbecoming a gentleman of your position."

"Look, get me on the stupid LA flight. It'll have to do. I am so angry now. Make it an electronic ticket, I don't want to have to go back to the gate. It's too crowded."

"Just a moment, sir. There, it's done." The agent gave Nicky the flight number and gate. Nicky promptly hung up and stormed over to the gate for Los Angeles.

Nicky checked in and asked for a printed itinerary. The gate agent looked suspiciously at the booking time on Nicky's reservation. There's no way it could be done but it looked like he had booked the ticket only moments ago. "Sir, this doesn't appear to be correct. Your reservation is under ten minutes old."

"Um, well I missed my first flight to San Francisco," but the gate agent wasn't paying attention as his phone rang.

"One moment, Sir. I have a call."

The agent picked up the public address microphone, totally forgetting Nicky and stated, "Ladies and Gentlemen, due to a mechanical difficulty, your flight to Los Angeles has been delayed. We do not expect a departure for another three to four hours. If you prefer, we will be happy to re-route you to San Francisco and a connection on to Los Angeles. Your luggage will not make the flight, so keep that in mind. Please step to the podium if you wish to rebook."

"I'll take that!" shouted Nicky, still at the head of the queue, as about eighty people rushed to the podium. Soon after, Nicky had a ticket for the flight to San Francisco. As he neared the new gate, Nicky noticed the San Francisco plane was pulling back into the gate. After a few moments, many of the passengers from the Los Angeles flight began to file into the gate area.

Shortly, a boarding announcement was made, "For those of you coming from the Los Angeles flight, we're happy to have you aboard but there is no overhead space. All items that won't fit under your seat will have to be gate checked." There was a collective moan from those awaiting to board the plane.

"We'll be boarding all passengers at this time."