Page 14 of A Princess, Stolen
“But…”
“Turn. Your. Phone. Off.”
His choppy words made my pulse race even faster. I obeyed.
“Now take the screwdriver and destroy it, then take a photo, and send it to the only contact you have saved.”
“What?”
“You heard what I said, didn’t you?” There was something in his voice I couldn’t quite interpret. I sensed not only the concretethreat behind his words but also something personal, something deeper. It sounded like he knew me.
Panicked, I thought about what I should do. If I destroyed my iPhone, no one would be able to locate me.
“What are you waiting for? The shooter has a twitchy finger and we’re on a tight schedule.”
“Okay. Okay, wait…please.” I frantically clutched the screwdriver and put my phone in front of me. I had never broken anything intentionally before, brute force of any kind was beyond my nature. I squeezed my eyes shut and struck. The ugly crack sounded like an egg breaking. I opened my eyes and saw the tool whose tip had penetrated the screen into the casing. The sight of the shattered glass chilled me to the core; I wasn’t concerned about the phone but the destruction. The smashed device seemed, for a moment, like a symbol of my life. With trembling fingers, I took the photo and sent it to the contact I found.Isaac.
Definitely not his real name. There was a buzz on the other side. “You did well, little lady.” I heard the subtle smile in his voice and a fear-filled shiver ran down my spine.
He knows me. He definitely knows me!
“Now, open the bag and put on the clothes!”
Again, everything happened too quickly. I couldn’t think; I could only do what he said. Maybe Sander and Navid were already searching for me. Maybe I would get help soon. With that thought in my mind, I dug a black raincoat made of thin fabric out of the plastic bag as well as a long blonde wig and sunglasses. Completely beside myself, I slipped into the coat and put on the wig while stuffing my pigtails under it like sausages before donning the sunglasses.
It was clear to me that I was to leave the hotel in these clothes so that I wouldn’t be recognized. It was also clear to me that itwas me they wanted, not Dad, but I didn’t have time to think about anything any longer.
“Done.” My hands were sweating so much that the stranger’s cell phone almost slipped out of my hand.
“Put the screwdriver and the broken phone in your handbag. We’ll check it later.”
“Okay.” Of course I did.
“Now check in the mirror outside if everything is in place.”
I left the stall and stared numbly at the stranger in the shiny mirror. No one would recognize me like that and I didn’t know if that was good or bad. Good for Dad, of course, but bad for me. Tears were building in my throat, but full of adrenaline, my fear was far too great to cry. And I was already receiving the next instructions.
“Now exit the hotel through the main entrance, walk toward Trump Tower, and hail a cab.”
“Okay,” I whispered. I was so scared. Once I left the hotel, there would be no way to get help. Nevertheless, I let a man in a suit hold the door open for me. From outside, I glanced into the foyer once more, praying to see someone familiar: Sander, Navid, Penelope, or Dad, but I only saw strangers. My throat constricted. I wanted to sit, think, and find a solution, but I didn’t dare in case someone was actually targeting me, maybe even the man on the phone.
Cars honked as I walked down the street. A siren sounded somewhere followed by the horn of an ambulance. Sensory input flew past me, fragmented and out of context. The coolness of the night on my skin, the smell of exhaust fumes, fast food, and perfume. Well-dressed people hurrying past me.
“I can hear the city, so, you’re outside.” Again the voice on the phone pulled me out of the fog and into reality. “When you’re far enough away from the hotel, hail a cab.”
“I’ve never done that,” I stammered, staring at the street where hundreds of cars were rushing by.
“Stand on the side of the road and wave. It’s not that hard, little lady.” He even laughed.
“Okay.” I stepped to the curb and waved my arm wildly in the air. Not only had I never hailed a cab, I had never ridden in one. As tears welled up in my eyes, I shouted, “Taxi!” because I knew that from the movies. Who would guarantee me that they wouldn’t shoot Dad anyway even if I did what they wanted? On the other hand, if they wanted me, they still needed Dad. He had to pay, so they were unlikely to kill him.
A yellow car pulled up next to me. “The taxi…I have one,” I blurted out.
“See, it was easy. Get in and let him drive you to Brielle Avenue, at the corner of Babe Ruth Stadium. Staten Island.”
“Staten Island,” I whispered, aghast. That was in the middle of nowhere. People were disappearing on Staten Island! Whole buildings were disappearing on Staten Island. At least that’s what Penelope and her Upper East Side friends said.
With shaking hands, I opened the car door, something I had never done before—opening a car door myself. “Good evening, sir,” I tried to say politely, but my voice broke. The mustachioed Indian only gave me a fleeting glance. “Can you drive me to Staten Island?”
