Chapter 215

Erik opened his eyes and saw some light filtering through the blindfold. His head was throbbing, and he recalled being struck with something heavy, knocking him unconscious. How long had he been out? It was obvious to him that he had been kidnapped. He knew it was important to pay attention to everything. Every sound. Every smell. Count steps. Count voices. Any and all details will be important.

He could feel a slight breeze on his right cheek. The light was brighter towards that direction. He realized he was near a window or opening of some sort. He took a deep breath in and smelled the air. At first, he could smell waffles, a bakery, perhaps, then cheese, fat and grease, bacon, sausages, and coffee. It was morning. He was near a city and it had a vibrant food life. France's streets didn't smell like this. The smell of fish was strong as well. He was near the sea. It also smelled of mold. Old. Not just the building he was in but the air.

He listened for sounds. There were people in the streets, cars, but not close. The voices and engines were far off. He was definitely outside of the main city or town.

He was afraid to speak, to alert anyone that he was awake. He kept his head down and tried not to move, to pretend he was still out. He didn't hear or feel anyone's presence near him, but he couldn't be sure. He was tied to something in the room, his arms behind him and he was sitting on the floor. It was a beam of some sort. He moved his hands to attempt to make out what it was and he decided it was an industrial beam. He was in a factory or some type of large structural place. The floor was cold, like tile of concrete beneath him. It could be a parking garage. He made a noise, like a snore, and gauged the echo. It was a large, empty space with walls. Thick walls. Possibly stone or concrete. His head was throbbing. He was sure he was bleeding as well.

Where was Charles? Had he been taken also? And where was the rest of his security that was supposed to meet them at the airport? Erik thought. And who the bloody hell would want to kidnap him?

He heard footsteps approaching and remained still.

"You hit him hard, mate. He's still out like a light. I sincerely hope he wakes up eventually or all of this is going to be for nothing and a waste of our bloody time." A voice said that Erik didn't recognize.

"None of this is a waste of time, I assure you of that." Another voice said. This one sounded familiar to Erik, but he couldn't place it.

After several minutes, he heard them walk away. Using his eyebrows, he moved them in a way that his blindfold lifted at the bottom so he could lift his head and see out below it. He peeked under it and saw he was in a large mill or factory of some sort. He looked at the walls and noticed writing, but it was too far away to decide what language it was or what it said. The building hadn't been used in quite some time, he could tell. He also noticed a metal table with two rusted legs, half crumbled and causing the table to lean slightly to the left. There was also a camera set up on a tripod, facing the opposite wall. It wasn't filming him currently but he knew it had a sinister purpose.

He heard voices on the street below. He could tell he was on a much higher floor than street level. He listened to what they were saying, it was a man and a woman walking and they didn't seem to be affiliated with what was happening to Erik. They were merely passing by. He tried harder to make out their voices. He then realized he could make out what they were saying. They were going to the beach after getting lunch at Mannekin Pis on the Damrak. The were speaking Dutch. He was in Amsterdam.