GQ has an article in this month’s issue about being abducted for fun. Yes, just like in The Nightmare Thief. And, as in my novel, people who buy kidnappings are sensation-seekers. Rich ones: “Experiences are the newest, hottest luxury items.”
At some point, in order for the illusion to work, the script has to break down. The kidnapper has to acknowledge that the kidnapping is fake and then create the impression that the fake kidnapping has somehow gone awry. All it takes is a tiny seed of doubt. I had asked to not be stun-gunned—a small break in the rules. And I was suddenly not fully confident that I knew Adam’s entire criminal history. It also dawned on me that, outside of my captors, no one on earth knew where I was. I quietly began to freak out. Control was slipping from me, just a bit, and the doubt began to creep in with surprising ease.
In the end, the author talks to a friend who’d been held hostage in the Philippines for seven months. That man’s reaction to the game: “It’s a callous waste of money.” To which I say: at the very least.
Second: on a lighter yet weirder note, what kind of person can’t tell a poodle from a ferret?
Even in China Lake, the fugitive ferrets didn’t attempt to disguise themselves as dogs to hide from the law. Maybe they should have.