Taken Hostage

Before leaving the cafe, Zayn bought his friends a medium sized latte, prepared in a dark blue cup, with four sugar packs poured into each coffee cup. Once everyone had their coffee, they left the cafe using the front entrance, greeted by the warm sun in the clear blue autumn sky of Algeria.

The cafe was at the top of a slight hill in residential neighborhood homes, apartments and restaurants. Zayn pointed at his car to their right, down the concrete road. They strolled and sipped on their coffees while laughing at each other and enjoying the weather.

But the fun didn't last. Ahead of them, the driver and passenger side doors of a white BMW SUV with tinted windows opened. Four people hopped out of the SUV dressed in all black hoodies, jackets and jeans. All of them with trimmed bears, tanned skin, large in build, broad shoulders and the same height as Volkan's six-foot measurement.

Zayn was focused on Soraya as they discussed how Imane was when Volkan urged them to pay attention. But it was too late. One of the black-hooded men charged Zayn then gut punched the air out of him. Volkan instantly kicked the man on the far right his chest; he stumbled backwards and tumbled against the black sedan parked on the side.

"Don't move," another one of the men said. He held his silver pistol out, aimed at Volkan then Soraya. His friend to his left then threw an unconscious Zayn over his shoulder. "He's coming with us. If you're lucky, you'll see him again."

Volkan didn't bother trying to rescue Zayn and instead absorbed every detail of the attackers. Maybe they were from a gang? Or were they hired from another city? All four of the men had the same cut across their chin, as if it were a marking, carved into their skin by what seemed to be a knife. One of them had scars on his face, another had a notably large nose and the one who gripped the pistol had more hair on his hand then his counterparts.

"Don't do anything stupid, kho," the pistol carrier ordered. Kho meant brother in their language. "Or you'll get shot nine times."

"Then at least I'll live," Volkan answered, gritting his teeth as he watched his closest friend carried away into the white SUV, kidnapped by who knew who and for who knew why and who knew where.

Soraya pulled her phone out and snapped a few pictures of the SUV's license plate as it drove off. It wasn't until she checked her pictures that she realized the car had no license plate. They had no way of tracking the vehicle.

"Damn it! Zayn!" Volkan yelled into the street.

Soraya turned and heard something hit the ground. She glanced to her left and saw the black briefcase. "Zayn's money," Soraya said. "He must've dropped it before they reached him." She grabbed it with a firmness that would never let go unwillingly.

"Protect that," Volkan said, pacing in his spot. "We're going to get Zayn back."

"But who were they? I've never seen them."

"Me neither." Volkan searched through his own phone contacts then send a few text messages describing the men who kidnapped Zayn, their car and their chin scar. "Maybe someone knows."

"Let's get that money back to his apartment and make sure Imane is okay." Volkan tapped Soraya's shoulder as she was constantly staring at the ground. "Hey," he said. "We'll get him back. You know I'm crazy and Zayn's crazier. I'm sure they know him from somewhere. They wouldn't just take him randomly. We'll find the connection."

Soraya nodded. "Okay. Let's go."

At Zayn's apartment, Soraya knocked on the door, rang the door bell, knocked on the door again then rang the doorbell again, all before Imane would push a chair against the door to peek through the peep hole as he brother instructed her to do when she stayed home alone.

"Soraya?!" Imane shouted. She dropped off the chair and unlocked the door. "What're you doing here?" Imane gave her a hug with her wet hair swinging about. She wore a black shirt and blue jeans. "And Volkan? How are you?" After glancing around, she added, "Where's Zayn? Is he coming?"

"He'll be back. We just wanted to make sure you were awake." Soraya handed the briefcase to Volkan from behind her back. "Can I have a cup of juice, Imane?" Soraya smiled and patted Imane's head. "It's getting hot out there. We'll be leaving right after."

"Of course." Imane signaled for them to follow her into the kitchen.

Volkan slid past the kitchen and strode directly into Zayn's room. He hadn't been inside in about four months, but everything looked the same. He saw a clean made bed with black sheets and gray pillows, a wooden desk by the slightly open window, a closed silver laptop, desk chair pushed into the desk, and a dresser on the left corner of the room alongside the wall closet on the left side. Volkan slid the white closet door open to the right, moved the stack of shirts and jeans on the shelf then placed the briefcase against the wall. He covered the briefcase with a few stack of clothes in front of it then shut the closet.

"Volkan!" Imane shouted.

He jerked and peaked out of Zayn's room. His head seemed to float like a ghost for whoever looked across the hallway at him. "Yeah?"

"What're you doing?" Imane asked, standing in the kitchen but leaning out into the hallway.

"Zayn asked me to pick something up. I'll be right there," Volkan lied on the spot. He exhaled and thought about leaving a note but then decided against it. He'd tell Zayn face to face where the money was hidden.

Back at the front door, Volkan drank the iced cup of water Imane prepared after she realized her refrigerator didn't have any juice. "Soraya, let's go." He set his empty glass cup on the counter then stepped back towards the front door of the apartment. "Thanks, Imane. See you next time."

"See you next time, Imane. We have to meet your brother now." Soraya hugged her.

"Tell him he didn't leave me any breakfast. I'll remember that." Imane laughed. She raised her left eyebrow "But I made some pancakes, so it's okay."

Volkan grit his teeth remembering how Zayn was kidnapped right in front of him.

"You got it." Soraya high-fived her.

"Bye," Imane said, shutting the door as they left, wishing she had someone to hang out with on that bright and warm afternoon.