“Okay, bring her over here.”

The rattling of chains, mixed with the frantic, worries cries of a young woman and the grunts of the men dragging her along echoed in the narrow corridor. A door opened, unoiled hinges squealing and she was dragged through. A second later, she was pushed down, roughly, into a heavy wooden chair. A few coils of thick, rough rope were soon run around her torso and the chair back, keeping her from rising.

“Take the bag off.”

The heavy burlap sack the young woman had been wearing was yanked up and off, revealing a young and very frightened face. Her long, light blonde hair had come partially undone from the ponytail and spilled across her face. Below, her teeth were clinches around the heavy cloth rag tied tightly between her teeth.

Below, the young woman wore a pink t-shirt with a cartoon unicorn across the front and below soft fuzzy pajama pants. Only a few hours before, she’d been asleep, snug and warm in her bed, blissfully unaware of the men sneaking into her room with rope in their hands.

A bright light shone in the young woman’s face, casting the room in shadow. Behind the glare, she could see shadowy figures in a circle around her. One of them held something up, a lens glinting in the darkness. A second later, there was a bright flash of light, which dazzled the young woman. As she blinked back the purple spots that swam before her face, it flashed again and again as the man snapped several more pictures with the camera in rapid succession.

“Very nice.” The man said. He nodded. “Get the newspaper.”

Another man stepped forward, temporarily blocking the spotlight. A thick, folded paper was dropped in the young woman’s lap, the front page turned out, the date visible at the top. As the other kidnapper stepped back, the photographer snapped half a dozen more shots in quick succession.

“Good. We’ve got what we need.” The man said, turning. “Get her bedded down...” The other men advanced on the young woman. The sack was dropped once more across her head, plunging her back into darkness. She felt the ropes tying her to the chair being undone and then she was whisked away once again.

Five minutes later, the kidnapped teen was lying on a dirty mattress in a locked closet, sobbing inside the sack, praying her rich parents paid the ransom soon. Meanwhile, the photographer had plugged the camera into a computer and was going over the photos he’d taken.

He’d selected a few already. One, with the newspaper, was ready to send out through an encrypted email server along with the following message: “Mr. and Mrs. Jones: We have your daughter Bethany. She is currently unharmed. If you want to keep things that way, you will not contact the police. We want a ransom of $25,000. Details on how to deliver this will be given soon.”

Now, the cameraman was selecting another photograph. It and the accompanying message would go out to a much larger group of select individuals across the globe. The message read: “New merchandise available for purchase! One Bethany Jones (18), pictures above. Unbroken, untrained. Ready for immediate delivery. $125,000 or best offer.”

One of the pictures, with a good, clear look at the girl’s cute, scared face and her young, taut body straining against the ropes holding her to the chair, was selected and attached. In seconds, both messages were sent off. “Wonder which we’ll hear back from first...” He mused with a grin.