My beloved Abigail (lovely dog that she is) a hostage? Intolerable! I could not risk any harm coming to her. “What have you done with her!” I asked.

“Nothing. And unlikely to if you cooperate.”

“Do what you will with me!” I was bold in my wrath. “But let Abby go!”

Them man smiled, dabbed again at his runny nose, and said “Come along then.”

As we stepped outside beige mini-van pulled up to the curb. My new associate opened the sliding door and gestured me into the back. As I settled myself into the seat furthest from the door, he reached into a pocket and withdrew a blindfold. He didn’t have to ask me to don it. Afterward, my seatbelt was fastened and my hands cuffed in front of me. I heard the driver sneeze just ahead of me.

We drove for some time. I tried to keep track of the turns, but was unable to ascertain precisely how far left counted as a “left” etc. At last we pulled to a stop. The door opened and my seatbelt loosed. I was handed out onto a paved area, and led on foot about 40 steps. I could tell that we entered a building by the change in ambient noise and the sudden decrease in humidity.

My blindfold was removed once we entered an elevator. When the doors dinged open I saw….an ordinary office. Row upon endless (or at least moderate lengthy) row of Steelcase desks, Aeron chairs, and shoulder high cubicle walls. A small army of men in polo shirts or button-downs with khaki trousers worked at computers. Occasionally a man would rise, walk to a fax machine, feed it some papers, then return to his desk.

I was led past the rows of cubicles, to a conference room about 20 feet by twelve. I was instructed to sit, and left alone inside, though I had no doubt that the door was guarded. I looked around me. The room was pleasantly bland with a rectangular table, eight chairs, a triangular conference telephone, and a video projector. A banal seascape with few lines and fewer colors failed to make the tan wall more interesting.

Some time passed before the door opened again. A tall, slender man, in a grey suit sneezed as he entered. He wiped his nose with a tissue and gave me a sheepish smile. “I’d offer to shank hands but….”

“I understand entirely.” I replied.

“So, what do you think of the place?” he asked, genuine interest on his rather plain features.

“Perhaps I could form a better opinion, were I to know the nature of this….establishment.”

Puzzled, he glanced at a folder in his left hand. “That’s right, you haven’t been told! Welcome to the international headquarters of the Ragweed Brotherhood!"