The first construction project turned out to be a dormitory of sorts, necessary to house the first group of new employees, security personnel. Lane didn't like what he had seen in town and was very worried if Ayla or Lisa, or even Ted or Wright, were to venture out. He was sure that someone would get kidnapped or worse. (Look what had already happened to Ayla.)

Lane held interviews in his office for all staff positions at once. Although it did make it easier for him, it was really for the convenience of the townies who wanted to apply. There were so many different positions available, instead of having several three-person appointments for a single position, just bring 'em all in at once. This aided in his discovery of qualified people better suited for a job for which they were not going to apply.

He had Airen set up chairs, tables, wifi and snacks for many people. Everyone took a number, and he interviewed them in the order that they showed up. If it was obvious that they would have a very long wait, they were allowed to leave and keep their place in line. Lane interviewed his applicants with an eye toward their personal strengths and what they actually enjoyed doing, as well as their qualifications. ( "Why take a great job if you're going to hate every minute that you are at work?") If he thought that they would do well in another job, he would explain the situation and offer an alternate position.

Several applicants were hired for a position other than the one for which they had applied. By the end of day, Lane had hired twenty-two guards, sixteen domestics, two personal trainers, one gardener, and a personal secretary for Lisa. Her secretary, Ellen DeMarco, quickly became an executive assistant, for all the duties she assumed. Lisa also discovered that she was a great cook and caterer.

Airen, having discovered a whole wing of private rooms separate from the family areas, and Ayla looked at the possibility of having the new employees all live in the main building rather than build a dormitory. The wing housed the project that Ayla's Dad had wanted. He had planned to rework the rooms for other purposes. The wing as is, would easily house sixty individuals, and could accommodate couples and a few family groups. Many of the folks Lane had hired had family that would want to live with them, and some of them had family or mates that were also new hires at the Towers. Lane would consult with Airen to determine which was most feasible and economically sound.

He hired some ex-athletes and ex-military types as the Family Guard, appointed a couple of the older people as squad leaders to train the new "army." He then had every family member pick out their own personal guard...except for himself. It never occurred to him that he couldn't handle anything that came up, that he himself might need protection. It crossed Ayla's mind, but her confidence in Lane was too strong for her to overrule his decision. She did go behind his back and had him "chipped" over strong objections. She pulled her version of "Lane wants to" with tears, to force the issue.

He asked Airen to collect information from the new security people about who had what talents. Lane knew that Ayla's personal guard, James, was proficient in jiu jitsu. James had been her instructor during her recovery. Lane intended to ask James if he'd work out with him and teach him some advanced moves. (James was one of those with a mate that was also an employee. He had married Susan, his erstwhile business partner, who was still the main trainer in the gym/spa.) If there were other skilled people among them, they could be recruited to instruct the others and any family members that might be interested. Lane himself still had frequent tai chi sessions with Ayla, but Lane was not a pro, just a beginner.

Lane set up a second meeting with the Mayor for two weeks hence. The day of the second meeting, he left the Towers thirty minutes before his appointment time, but never made it to City Hall. Once it was determined that Lane was missing, Ayla became pretty much hysterical and useless; Airen remained calm (...on the surface...); Amilla stayed in the lab to offer her additional synapses to help Airen "think," and the rest of the family started contacting anyone who might know something or who might know someone who might know something.

After a few days, and no luck, Ayla stopped fretting and became as cold and calculating as any of the guards, who soon realized who the real boss around there was...when Lane was away, of course.

Someone somewhere had seen a bunch of Varda henchmen coming and going in shifts at an office complex in the warehouse district. There were a bunch of tough-looking guys in the compound around the clock. The kicker was that Varda himself had been seen coming in and going out of town a couple times in the last week.

Lane doesn't remember too much of what happened during those long and terrifying days. Varda recognized the much-ballyhooed Lane Crawford, heir apparent to the Towers, as the undercover agent he had discovered in his Northern provinces last year. He decided in addition to enjoying the killing of this spy, he had a couple of assholes in his northern cadre that needed killing. They had lied and had told him that they had taken care of this particular agent. Among other things, it resulted in the premature release of Ayla Towers, not a profitable exercise.

He faced Lane in the basement of his Crestfield offices. "Ola, Senor Crawford. You don't seem so smug now."

Lane's brows rose. He was seated in a hard-backed chair, his feet duct-taped to the two separate chair legs, his hands taped to the wooden chair arms. "I was never smug, Varda. I just underestimated how far your reach went into the DEA." Varda smiled coldly. Lane continued, "I believe that at least two of your compatriots have been eliminated."

"I had heard. There are so many others that I never really noticed any changes." Lane's forehead wrinkled and he shook his head just slightly. "But, let us not talk of the past. Let's talk about your future, short though it will be." Lane tensed, trying the restraints with a futile lunge. Varda lifted his hand, and one of his thugs standing behind Lane stepped forward, and punched Lane in the solar plexus a couple times and stood back to watch him double up. He glanced at his boss, who shook his head. The thug stepped back behind Lane again.

Once he got his breath back, he looked up and watched Varda, as the crime boss made a big show of filling an injector with who knows what. "Your pretty girlfriend was of no help to us in finding you." Lane rattled his chair, and poured as much venom into his glare as he could. (...Varda mused, "Know what his soft spot is...Might as well make use of it...") "I was forced to use methods other than my special drug. Since she's a pretty little thing, she did provide a pleasurable diversion for a few men in my crew...until she stopped begging. It was less amusing then." He smiled in Lane's direction.

Angry beyond all reason, with gritted teeth, Lane struggled again, once more rattling the chair legs. "Ah, ah...You may hurt yourself. Please sit still now. I wouldn't want to miss my mark and kill you outright." He nodded and two goons stepped forward and held Lane by pulling his neck back and holding his hands still on the chair arms. Finding a struggle to be futile, he tensed his body, to make it as difficult for the bastard as he could. Varda moved to Lane's side and carefully plunged a needle into Lane's neck, just at the point where it joined his shoulder.

In only a moment, Lane sucked in a ragged breath as a searing pain rushed through his lungs and abdomen. His breathing became labored as he refused to utter a sound and give Varda the satisfaction. The first couple of times of his introduction to Varda's pain drug were the last times he was able to hold back his vocal response. The pain became more and more unendurable with each new injection.

Varda had Lane moved to an isolated room on a subterranean floor. Stripping him naked, Varda had him moved from the chair and tied to an overhead pipe. This position exposed Lane's chest and back to taser burns, knives, and plain old fists. To make sure it didn't become too messy with all the blood and bodily fluids, Lane's designated "attendants" washed Lane and his prison down with fire hoses every day or so. Of course, Varda still added a few grams of his new drug every so many hours. Lane finally just gave in and screamed. It was just a few days that he had been Varda's "guest", and as yet, he hadn't given in to tears, but he feared it wouldn't be long now. (Damn...)

He couldn't squeeze in but an hour or two of sleep here and there, and was deprived of food and water for very long periods of time. The position of his arms caused his shoulders and biceps to ache most of the time, regardless of the damned drug. A couple times, he tried sitting up as straight as he could and stretching his muscles. It was so exhausting, he decided to save his strength for just staying alive.

After a few days in the basement, Lane felt too tired to even breathe. (I'll just rest a few minutes before trying to reach the Towers again.) He hung his head and closed his eyes. (...just for a minute, he decided...) He was jolted awake when someone pulled his hair. Whoever it was continued to pull his hair, trying to lift his head. As his head was raised, he opened his eyes and was met with what he thought had to be a hallucination, but was a damned persistent and disquieting one.

The pretty Hispanic girl who was holding his head up by his hair, inquired "Are you awake now?" He nodded once, which hurt. He winced. She dropped his hair, letting it fall onto his face. Barely able to speak, he rasped. "Pardon me if I don't stand up, Miss. I'm Lane. You are?"

She giggled. "Isabel Varda." He was so far removed from his usual in-control self that she saw the distaste on his face before he was able to give her his best impassive look. Pursing her lips and looking somewhat frustrated, she insisted, "I'm not my father." She cocked her head and almost as an afterthought, inquired, "Are you thirsty?" His eyes widened. Before he could answer in the positive, she bent down and held a plastic bottle of cool water to his lips and tipped it slightly.