"May I thee the electronic device you confithcated from our visitor? Perhapth, there may be information contained within that would shed thome light on his presenthe.  There is altho a four wheeled vehicle of thome thort in front of the houthe. It wasn't there when we entered, tho I mutht athume he arrived in it, dethpite his claim to the contrary."

The orang paused a moment, looking sheepish. "I've reconthidered my opinion on hith dithposition. It would be more prudent to leave no witnetheth, though I think killing him to be imprudent at thith juncture. He's the only thourthe of information available to uth to provide uth a batheline of comparithon. Thomething you tho eloquently, if perhapth mithtakenly pointed out to me. Thimply put we need him. I am thertain that I can find a way to get the information we require out of him. The threat of torture often workth ath well as the act itthelf."

The Asian regarded the Orang blankly for several long moments before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing the small electronic device. He glanced at it thoughtfully before handing it over.

"Threats only work if you are willing to carry them out," he said in quiet tones. "I believe Bob Taylor is lying about his true purpose here. I also believe that he is learning as much about us--more--than we are about him. Lastly, I believe he does indeed have information we need, and if no one else is willing to get it then I will."

The Asian's gaze lingered on the Orang's only long enough to be considered a challenge as he stepped back around the simian.

"I wouldn't mention it, if I wasn't capable, willing or thertain of results." The orang said to the Asian's back. "You believe falthehood, without providing proof. While I don't doubt your conthiderable talents, that is a thlippery thlope to follow. One mutht always have evidenthe prior to action. Thince more than one of you are convinthed, I will athume as much as well, for the moment."
 
As he spoke, his hands and eyes were hungrily examining the device the Asian had procurred. Perhaps the data within held some clue to their captive's true intent.  It was a communications device much like that found in the kitchen, but this one was better somehow, faster maybe.  The software was also much more varied, including a mapping application and something that looked like a location triangulation system entitled GPS.

The orang grew more excited as he realized the increased potential in the device. The triangulation and mapping functions would prove invaluable to them, once they determined actual destinations, and already his mind was spinning with different applications. As he considered various uses for the device and it's programing, he started digging into the various files contained within the devices memory, still seeking some clue as to Bob's intentions, and their identitiies.

He was able to see that the GPS app was running.  The map showed a highlighted path from someplace closeby to the house.  When the orang tried to access the data stores, however, he was greeted with a prompt for something called a "PIN".

The orang hooted softly, once, in annoyance.

"Hmm.  The threat of torture.  Yes.  Yes, I see how that should work.  Don't let him go anywhere."  Al left the others and the sword, heading for the garage.

Bob turned to Betty.  "You said you needed to go somewhere.  Fine - tell me where and I'll take you.   Or tell me what it is you're looking for and I'll help you find it."

"I do, I do want to go somewhere, here is getting us nowhere...the problem is we don't know where we are or where to go for more information.  We don't know who we are."  Betty waited for the reprimand from Tom for having divulged to much information to the stranger but was sure treating Bob with hostility was not going to be productive.

Tom said nothing, though he did think telling this impostor their whole tale to be extremely bad judgement. Still, best to see where this went. 

Bob seemed truly confused.  "What do you mean, you don't know who you are?  Like, existentially you don't know, like a rhetorical philosophical thing, or you literally don't know who you are?"

"You people talk too much," the Asian said simply, glowering at everyone around him. To hear how much information they gave this man who was supposedly their captive; it was galling. He let all his hate and anger and frustration at their present situation show in his eyes as his gaze fell on Bob Taylor. "You, you do not talk enough. I still say kill him and let us leave."

The silent twin, that had been so enthralled only moments ago with the sword, was quickly growing agitated.  She paced back and forth and was whimpering in distress at the Asian's obvious hostility.  She spared a few looks towards Bob, and the door that he had gained entrance through. 

"What?" Tom said, blinking in surprise. "Kill? No, no, this is going to far," he slashed the air with his hand, palm down. When did this one become a killer? he thought, his hopes for being able to talk their way out of this falling faster than... faster than... his mind groped and came up with nothing. Faster than a very fast thing. And what in seven Hells was Al doing in the outer chamber? "I don't believe a word he's saying, but that doesn't give us the right to take his life" he said as calmly as he could, trying to reign in his galloping nerves.

Just who are we? 

The Asian shrugged one shoulder, a slight shift only, dismissing Tom's words. He was still looking at Bob Taylor.

Betty sighed and returned her gaze to Bob.  She still wasn't convinced he was less trustworthy than some of her other companions.  "Let's just say we aren't from around here and aren't familiar with here...so where could we go for information Bob?"

Bob returns Betty's gaze and his eyes go unfocused for a moment.  He opens his mouth to speak, but hesitates.  Then he says, "Internet... the CIA book... the town probably has a website... or the library."

He pauses and then gives his head a quick shake, squinting.  His eyes blinking, he turns towards Tom and offers, "I can take you to the library."

"Internet. We know what that is" Tom said, pointing at the device that housed the data warehouse. He moved around the table so that he was in plain view of the Asian. "What is this CIA book?" Tom was still holding the sword casually, but firmly as he raised his voice and stared directly at the younger man and added, "Perhaps you didn't hear me sir. There will be no harming of this man unless he harms one of us. Am I clear on this?" 

Bob looked from Tom to the Asian and back again, looking unsure if he should speak or wait.

The Asian faced Tom. "As good as you think you are with the sword know that I will kill you if you threaten me. I have seen you use the sword and I can do it. If you do not like what is about to happen, leave the room. Your way does nothing for us and only provides him with information. There will be no more of that." He cocked his head. "Am I clear on this?"

Tom sighed. "Crystal. Touch him, and we shall see who's way is best." 

"I see," the Asian nodded. "If I touch him with violence that is wrong. For doing so, you will attack me, which is not wrong. Do I have it correctly?"

The silent twin stopped her pacing for a moment, her posture rigid as she watched Tom and the Asian.

Tom shook his head. "We both see the flaw in that argument," he said, watching the Asian's eyes. It was always in the eyes that people made their first moves. "And people will tend to say anything to stop pain, nor do we have a way to prove valid or invalid information he gives us. This is not the way." 

The Asian sniffed, calling an end to the argument. His eyes lingered on Tom's for a moment before deliberately turning his back on him.  Betty had watched the argument with her gazed narrowed in confusion.

"O...Kaay," Betty kneeled in front of Bob and rocked back on her heels, oblivious to the length of her make-shift skirt, "so why don't you tell us a little more about yourself before these guys get carried away.  How'd you get here?  And what IS this CIA Book?"

Bob, being male, instinctively checked out the semi-nude woman's exposed crotch as she assumed her position, but he quickly righted that and forced himself to maintain eye contact.  Once he did so, he stared into Betty's eyes for a long moment.  His own took on a faraway look.

"I... uh... I'm... not... "  Bob was clearly struggling with his thoughts, his eyes never leaving hers.  "I... I... drove my car, down thirty-six from the parkway.  I... uh... the CIA World Fact Book.  It has information on everywhere in the world.  Nations, governments, populations... "

He clenched his eyes shut in what looked like a supreme effort.  His breathing had been strained but began to even off and Bob relaxed somewhat.

"Please," he said, looking at the floor and noting the feet of the large black man who had just returned.  "Just let me go.  Please."

"No, that we cannot do as of yet," Tom said. He looked at the Orang. "Can you query the database on this CIA Book and verify it exists?" 

The orang nodded slowly, absorbed in his examination of the electronic device. He tried a few number combinations, and received an error each time. A four digit code, with 10 base numbers, meant approximately 1.5 million combinations. Time consuming but not impossible to figure out. 

With good visual technology, he might even be able to determine wear patterns and narrow the search. This had become an interesting puzzle that grabbed the orang's curious nature and most of his attention for the moment. He was only peripherally aware of the tension growing between Tom and the Asian.
 
****

Al looked around the garage,  There were all manner of things which might serve his purposes: manual tools that could pierce, tear, or crush.  There was a thick-handled pick axe which he grabbed, and a large set of shears that looked as though they were strong enough to power through bone.

On his way back to the dining room Al went through the kitchen,  There was a wooden block on the counter that held a matching knife set.  He took the largest and added it to his collection.

When he arrived in the dining room with the others, Al spread his grim treasure out on the table in plain view of Bob.  For his part the man seemed hardly to notice.  He was looking a little haggard, as though the others might have started in on him already.

From the moment all of the utensils were laid out on the table, the quiet twin began showing signs of increased distress. Her looks began alternating between pleading with the Asian to stop him and watching the movements of the large black man.  She continued to pace, but her hands became entangled in her long blond hair as she pulled at it.

Tom swallowed his further frustration around the insanity he was seeing being practiced by his fellow - what? What were they to each other? What was there purpose?

Who are we!?!?

"Al. We are not going to harm this man. Please," he indicated the tools "put these things back." 

"He is not being honest with us."  Al jabbed a finger at Bob.  "Plain threats have failed to get us anywhere.  The application of something a little more painful should get us the answers we need.  Unless you have a better idea." 

Al considered his collection.  "I'll put the knife back."  And he returned the knife carefully to the block in the kitchen, storing it blade up to protect the edge.  It still might be needed, after all. 

Returning to the table, he smiled at Tom.  "I won't ask if you're happy.  None of us are happy with our situation." 

Tom regarded him steadily. "Let me be clear - we are not going to hurt him to get answers. That is not the way. The answer we get cannot be validated anyway, and pain will make people say anything. There will be no abuse of this man." Even to himself he sounded like a ... a ... DAMMIT. Something repetitive. "We check on the existence of this CIA book, find out if it meets our needs, then we leave. Time is running against us." 

Al paused, then slowly turned to Bob.  "Why are you really here?  I mean, the leaf blower sounds like a convincing theory but if John is supposed to be at work for another seven hours and Christine is meant to be here...  Hmm.  Why aren't you at work?"

Bob breathed through a frustrated and edgy laugh.  "I'm off today."  His tone grew heavy with irony.  "I took the day off to run some errands and relax."

The Asian sniffed, a sign of disdain. "He still toys with us." He looked at Al. "Allow me to help. I...know some things. You might hurt him without meaning to, whereas the pain he feels at my hands will be purposeful and purposefully done."

A barely audible whimper sounded from nearby as Betty's twin watched on, still teetering between her distress and interest in what was going on.

Al gave the Asian a long, cool stare then backed away from the table, placing himself between Tom and Bob.  "Just don't kill him."  He turned to face Tom.  "Right.  You help our Orang with this CIA book.  I assure you we won't start without you."  He turned round again, facing the Asian, folded his arms.  "Will we."

"Are you people insane?" Tom asked through gritted teeth. "The Orang is perfectly capable of extrating information from the database without my help. I"m not going anywhere. And No One," he stabbed the table with an index finger "is going to hurt this man unless he hurts one of us." 

"I will not leave an enemy behind me," the Asian said simply. "If you are opposed to torture, then kill him and be done with it. He knows more about our situation than he is saying and that makes him an enemy. We do not have time for coddling. We must know what he knows, and now. I am willing and able to do what the rest of you are apparantly unable or unwilling to do. Let me do this. It will, ultimately, benefit us all."

Betty jumped up and took a protective stance in front of Bob, she met the Asians gaze, "Just what are you expecting to learn from him?  Maybe you should try asking so direct questions before we go poking and prodding and deciding to kill people, stop gathering useless information about leaf blowers and ask something useful." 

The Asian considered for a moment, then nodded once. "Fair enough." He moved slightly to the side, the better to hold Bob's full attention.

"Bob Taylor, what is the real reason you are here?" He cocked his head slightly.

Tom was highly suspicious of this sudden change in tack, but he said nothing and tried to keep it off his face. He was tense, worried, and deeply upset at what was being brought to light concerning the group and their capabilities, but aside from striking off alone (which would be phenomenally stupid right now) there was nothing he could do but try and... try and what? Protect someone who might mean them harm? And that assumption purely a hunch. Gods, there was nothing easy about any of this, and he felt time slipping away from him like a lifeboat on a storm-tossed sea...

Bob looked the Asian resolutely in the eyes and tried to muster all the conviction he could.  "I'm here to borrow my friend's leaf blower.  That's all.  Believe it or not.  Frankly, given you refuse to answer my questions about why you've obviously broken into my friends' home and are turning it upside down, I find your consistent accusations of dishonesty somewhat ironic and insulting."

He turned to Tom.  "I've answered all your questions.  If there's something you want from me, take it.  Or call the police if you think I mean you harm.  Otherwise let me go."

"Earlier you said you were here to borrow the..." he paused. "The 'leaf blower'. But John and Christine are not here. So why did you come? How did you expect to get it?"

Bob nodded along as the Asian confirmed what he'd said.  "Christine's usually home during the day.  I was in the neighborhood so I thought I'd swing by and pick it up.  I knew she might not be home, but when I saw the garage door open, I thought she was."

The Asian paused, considering. "You did not expect John to be home?"

Bob shook his head.  "No, he works days.  He's not usually home until after six."

"Aaand were back to the leaf blower," Betty uttered in exasperation, "And this Christine person could come here at any minute.  How is Christine likely to react when she finds her garage door open?  Are we going to tie her up too?"

The Asian's nostrils flared again. "Then go close the garage door," he said. "You asked about this device earlier," he asked Bob, pointing to the phone in the Orang's hands. "What does it do?"

As Betty shot the Asian an annoyed glare, Bob got that confused look on his face again.  "It's a cell phone," he said carefully, looking at all of them in turn.  "Haven't you guys ever seen a cell phone?  You can call people, talk to them.  This one does email and internet, too, and music."

The Asian turned to the Orang with raised brows.

The orang nodded absently, aware of the silent question, he'd already determined it was a similiar type of communications device.

To Bob the Asian said, "Call people. Talk to them at a distance, then?" 

The orang's mind was racing, a portion of his mind working on the PIN which seemed to be some sort of password, or security precaution. While being blocked by the primitive security was annoying, there was something else that held the majority of his attention now. Something about their interaction with their 'guest' was bothering him, demanding to be looked at closer. Something about his responses. Irritated, the orang began to replay his memory of the encounter from the top, starting with Al's overstrength greeting. The back and forth of questioning, the irreverent responses, .... wait. His mind caught on something, he replayed certain sequences over and over again until he was sure.

When he saw it, he nearly slapped his palm to his forehead for not noticing it before.

Every time Betty asked a question of him, Bob answered it. Each time he answered, his reactions seemed different than when he answered a question posed by one of the others. Every single time. Why hadn't he seen it before? There was something about Betty that seemed to drag the information out of him.

He wasn't absolutely convinced, but his hypothesis seemed to fit the observation; and what did one do with a hypothesis? One put it to the test.

The orang sudddenly became animated again. he moved quickly to Betty's side, trying to draw her away, as he spoke to his companions. "Gentlemen, and motht importantly Mith, I believe I have thtumbled acroth thomething very interethting, and thomething motht likely quite utheful."

The Asian looked annoyed at the interruption but refrained from further comment.  Bob turned to watch the strange proceeding from his chair with a curious, concerned look on his face.

"It's not what quethtions we're athking, it's who is athking them. Allow me to demonthrate, if you will. Betty, If I may be tho bold, may I whithper in your ear?"

Betty regarded the orang inquisitively, then bent to hear what he had to say.  The Orang's voice was soft, meant only for her ears, and that of Al, who they all knew would hear it as if he had shouted it. His breath tickled her ear as he spoke. "I want you to athk him for three piethes of information. How you do it, I don't care, but I want you to athk, if he has any other name than the one given to uth, what is the PIN to his thell phone's databathe, and if he had any other reason to come here other than what he's told us. The order doesn't matter, jutht be sure to direct the questions to him alone."

To the others the orang spoke, his voice low, but not whispered. There was an undertone of excitement to his voice as he spoke. "Al, please use all of your faculties to determine if he prevaricates." He turned to the Asian, "You as well please." He grinned broadly at Tom. "I feel that it won't be tethtothterone that wins out thith day but good ol' ethtrogen that will thave the day!" He clapped the elderly gentleman on the shoulder good naturedly, nodded to Betty and turned his own attention to watching the subject's reaction to his experiment.

Tom opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. "Go ahead," he finally said gently to Betty, hoping that whatever plan the Orang had going would work. Especially if it didn't involve bloodshed. 

"Sure, anyway, I don't think you're going to get very far being so rude." Betty shot a glare at the Asian as she slowly walked over to Bob.  She and knelt in front of him again, but this time closer as if to gain his trust by showing she didn't see him as a threat.  With her hands placed lightly on the man's knees, she looked up at him, "Bob, they want some verifiable answers to convince them not to stick you with those nasty toys my friend Al over there dug up.  Can you give me the pin number for your cell phone?" 

It was a measure of how truly exceptionally attractive she was that Bob found himself instinctually reacting to it despite his obvious other problems at the moment.  The fact that she was half-naked only emphasized the point.  Her eyes were deep brown pools that, as he focused on them and she on his, seemed to envelop him in their attractiveness.  He couldn't seem to resist the seductive pull of her gaze once he focused on it, his eyes looking deeper and deeper into hers, his mind becoming more and more centered there.

"I...Yes, I..."  His voice was steady but tinged with something that might be called concern.  "I... it... yes, I can."

"What is your Pin number Bob?"  worried that wasn't specific enough Betty repeated, "What is the pin number for your cell phone?"

His eyes seemed to lose focus and glaze over even more as she pressed him.  "Pin... five... uhh... five... one... six... n-no... nnn... n-n-nine..."

"Okay, Bob, is there any other name you go by Bob?"  Betty's voice was gentle and coaxing, "and is there any other reason you may have come here today?  Anything other than the leaf blower?"

Bob paused, mouth open to answer.  Finally he came out with, "I... No, I... "

He shook his head slowly, never taking his eyes from hers.  "I... Fox... Fox... must... can't... "

It was like the popping of a bubble.  Bob's face, which had started to tense up, relaxed fully into something resembling needful adoration.  His breathing, which had become somewhat labored, smoothed out and settled.  There was a pause lasting a couple of breaths.

"My name is Robert Fox," he said softly.  "I'm supposed to make contact with you, assess your threat level and motivations, and report."

Without breaking eye contact, Betty continued her questioning, excited with her progress her voice took on an anxious tone, "Who?  Who are your reporting back to about us Robert Fox?  Where are they, how do they know we're here?"  She cut herself off so as not to overwhelm him.

"My handlers," he replied carelessly with a longing sigh at his beautiful questioner.  "I don't know where they are, we communicate by phone only.  I don't know how they zeroed you."

The Asian watched the byplay between Betty and Bob Taylor--no, Robert Fox--with interest. He glanced toward the Orang and inclined his head once in acknowledgment.

The orang smiled broadly, finally redeeming himself for his failed and futile discussion about the leaf blower. He typed the code given into the waiting query, suddenly eager to see what he discovered.  A small red dot that had been superimposed on the address book, the call log, and the calling application itself vanished.
 
"Please ask the dog," Tom said kindly, eyes narrowed in anger, "what threat level he determines us to be, please?" 

Betty was satisfied with her progress on the information gathering where her companions had failed, but not pleased to find the man she had stood up for was a potential threat.  She continued her questioning as instructed, her voice strict but calm. "You heard the man, what threat level have you deemed us to be?" 

"Very dangerous," he answered her with that glassy-eyed breathless tone she had instilled him him somehow.  "You're an armed, paranoid, disorganized, and hostile terrorist group - very unpredictable.  But those same qualities make you much less a threat to the prepared tactical unit on standby."

"Fascinating."  Al looked from Betty to Robert and back again.  "How very fascinating.  Please ask precisely what he was told about us.  And when his handlers are expecting to hear from him again.  Tom, we might be able to turn this to our advantage.  Depending on what his handlers know we can do, and how far Betty's control goes, we may be able to use him to extract information from them."  He shook his head.  I can hear his heart beat, she's forced him to tell us the truth.  What can the rest of us do?

"Paranoid for a reason, it seems, but hardly terrorists." Tom said. "Turn this to our advantage we shall. Good catch on this my friend," he told the Orang. "Betty, can you please ask him Al's questions, and aslo how far away and how many are in this tactical unit on standby." The situation was going from bad to hideous quickly. Who knew how long this man would remain in Betty's power as well. Time... not enough TIME!!!

The orang grinned broadly at Tom. He was feeling quite proud of himself. So far their little group was turning out to be quite talented. He really needed to take some time and determine the extent of their abilities, but unfortunately time was a luxury they didn't really have.

While he kept an ear on the interrogation, he focused the active part of his attention on unraveling the mysteries of Fox's communication dev.... cell phone. The applications that were previously secured should provide some interesting information. He delved into the data that had been blocked from him.

Betty continued the interrogation as instructed, "Robert Fox, tell me all the details you know about the standby tactical team.  I want to know size, location, affiliation.  Everything you know."

"I don't have that intel, but I know they want you alive," Bob explained with a hypnotically-induced monotone.  The more focused and intent Betty's questioning, the more she seemed to deepen his enraptured state.  His dazed devoted eyes were glued to hers as though they were his entire world.

"Who is leading the team, Robert?  Do you have the ability to call them off?"

"I don't know who will have tactical command," he replied.  "They will base the level of their response on my report, so I would have to lie to them to keep them from going forward with a tactical response."

Now that the tension in the room had decreased, the silent twin had relaxed.  She migrated back towards the picture box and began flipping through the channels again as the others continued to question the stranger.

"I'll keep watch of Bob, here."  Al said to the Asian quietly.  "Can you keep her company?"  He nodded towards Betty's twin at the picture box.  "See if you can steer her towards a news channel.  Might be useful."

The Asian looked askance at Al, then glanced back to Not Betty. "She fine," he said after a moment and returned his attention to Robert Fox.

"Please ask him where the safest place we could go to avoid ... capture, I suppose... would be." said Tom.

The orang interrupted his perusal of the cell phones database to interject. "Perhapth, we should have him give his handlers an all clear, indicate that we were not present when he arrived, thomething along those lines. That would give uth a thmall reprieve from whatever tactical rethponthe might be awaiting uth. The thafetht plathe to be would be in the latht plathe they expect uth to be, in the lion's den. We need to vacate and our new friends residenthe would theem a likely plathe to regroup."

The orang returned to his perusal of the cell phone, still trying to wade through the data, sifting for any useful information.

"We will also need to consider what to do after we are done questioning him," the Asian offered. "We are being assessed and an armed force is arrayed against us, and we know nothing of who we are or why we are here. It is best to not leave a live enemy behind, especially one who knows as much about us as he does."

"On the other hand, here we have a direct line to whoever is looking for us.  Undoubtedly they will have some means to track him - we need to change his clothes, leave behind anything anything non-essential."  Al was animated, almost vibrating with energy.  "Have you found anything on that communications device that gives us a clue as to these handlers of his?  If everyone's in agreement, we move to his house.  We take him with us - we are not killers.  Not yet."

The Asian regarded Al with something close to amazed confusion. "His house?" He looked around at the others. "Did I miss a discussion?" He gestured toward the front of the house. "This man arrived in a single conveyance. It did not appear large enough to accommodate all of us. How would you expect us to get to his abode assuming we could convince him to take us?"

"Where do you suggest we go?  We can't hang around here indefinitely.  The longer we wait here, the more suspicious this man's handlers will become.  We need to get him to report to them, inform them that we're harmless, keep the tactical team away from us, and we need to get away from here.  As the Orang suggested, his house seems the most likely location.  But I'm open to suggestion."  Al folded his arms across his broad chest.  "Well?  Tom.  What's your take on this?"

"It's not a bad plan, provided Betty can hold him indefinitely in whatever bonds she's holding him. We need to leave here, and quickly. We need to take him with us and learn as much as we can when we do that, though who knows what kind of survelliance he is under." Tom looked at Bob's somewhat empty and confused expression and suppressed a shiver. Even this is wrong. We shouldn't be doing this, but we it's the least of a slew of bad choices. "I think we go. He takes us someplace he considers safe from observation, someplace where we can learn." 

The orang looked up again, still working on the decoding the information. He had little foundation to work with so it was taking him a little longer than he liked, though he assumed several of the lists were the communications protocols for this particular technology, similiar to an address, that allowed one device to find and communicate with another.

"Actually," He started, directing his response to Al, "I don't think a harmleth clathification would be thuffithient to prevent the tactical unit from attempting to apprehend uth. It would thtill come down to a fight, jutht more of one than they expect. To ethcape without conflict, he has to indicate we were already gone when he arrived, and he has no indication of our location. To have him report otherwise continues to paint uth as a target. We have to dithapear, not appear harmleth." 

"I don't think that's going to work.  If we weren't here, he would have reported to that effect already.  He arrived not long after we did, so whoever sent him knew where we were going to be, and when."  Al shook his head slowly,  "We are on a countdown to the arrival of that tactical response team.  The longer we leave it before he reports in, the heavier the response is going to be.  The best chance we've got is to play for harmless.  Betty, please ask Mister Fox how many individuals he was told to find here.  We may be able to play the numbers to our advantage as well."

"It is past time to go. We can continue to question this man on the way to wherever we go next. But we must go, and go now." Tom said firmly. "Gather the data store and whatever other devices you deem useful," he told the simian. "We have no idea how long this thing Betty is doing to the man will last, and I would rather we be away from here if and when it ends." He looked once more at the young woman and repeated "Please ask him where he thinks the safest place for us to be is. And if you can," he added reluctantly, mouthing the words as though they pained him, "ensure that he takes us there without incident." 

That said, he strode out of the room and towards the front door to inspect the transport device outside, hand gripping his sword tightly. "I'll meet the rest of you outside. I'm going to look at this thing he arrived in."

"Before you leave the building, I'd leave that inside."  Al pointed at the sword.  "Doesn't do a lot for our 'harmless' cover story if they're watching the property."

That stopped Tom cold. He looked down at the weapon, sighed, then leaned it against the doorframe just inside the entranceway. "Yes, you're right of course." Then he continued on outside. 

Finally breaking eye contact with Bob, Betty addressed the group, "How are we going to take him with us, chair and all or do you plan on unbinding him?"

Bob slumped forward in his restraints with a grunt.  "Unghhh..."

He appeared groggy but seemed to be none the worse for wear and gaining steam.  "What... my God... What did you do to me?  How did you do that?"

"Right.  So your gift works only as long as you've got eye contact.  We're going to need him unconscious before we transport him.  But we need to know where we're going first."  Al placed a hand on Bob's right shoulder.  "Relax, Bob.  We just asked you a few questions.  I think we'll be asking some more very soon."

"Hrm, well that's inconvenient," Betty said with a sigh, miffed at the limit to her newfound powers.

"Make sure the question is phrased correctly," the Asian offered. "Our destination needs to be safe for us from them. It needs to be someplace that his peers and, more importantly, his superiors, either would not think to look or, preferably, do not know about." He looked Betty up and down. "And perhaps you should find some clothing for your legs. His initial reaction to your appearance indicates that it is unlikely people go around in such a state of undress."

"Wha-what?  No...NO!"  Taped to the chair as he was, hands and feet, Bob was remarkably animated as he began full-on panicked struggles to escape. 

"Let me go!  Let me go!  You fucking bastards!  Let me goooooo!"

The duct tape was holding, he wasn't going anywhere.  But he wasn't stopping either.  He twisted his body wildly, violently, as he fought for release.