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Third Host: Excerpt, Amitiel

April 30, 2008

Amitiel finished searching the deck of the ship without further incident and without finding anything of interest to him. He could make sure none of the merchandise found homes on his way out. Maybe tip off someone on the force and really make their year. The door leading into the depths of the ship was unlocked and the whole place seemed strangely quiet for looking ready to sail. Amitiel frowned and paused to check his revolver and the rifle, making sure both were ready for action.

His worry deepened as he start checking cabins, only to find them empty. A slight echoing bang and a subtle shift in the movement of the boat broke the silence about three cabins down and drew Amitiels attention upward. The containers were being lifted off of the boat. He hurried back through the halls as fast as he could with the injuries. The boat shifted again as the second container started lifting off.

He knew it was too late, but he tried the door anyway. It didn’t budge. He shoved hard at the thick metal door, but it wasn’t going anywhere. Whatever they had done to seal it from the outside was going to keep him their. And nothing he was carrying was likely to do much damage to the steel.

His mind started tracking through possibilities. Who ever had set this up was serious. They had enough resources and men to feel like they could sacrifice people higher up the food chain to his investigation. The fact that they were sealing him in the boat likely meant that it wouldn’t survive the night either. The only real question was how much did they know about the man they had captured. As much as he had done his best as an investigator, he really didn’t think he had pissed off anyone enough to warrant this kind of treatment. Which probably meant they knew who and what he really was. Which also probably meant they were confident that whatever they had planned was going to get him out of the way.

He stopped in a cabin and went to the port window, gaging the size. It wasn’t going to be big enough. Odds were also not good that anyone willing to set up something this elaborate were going to miss any obvious routes out. The fact that nothing was sinking or exploding yet made him think it was bad. They wanted him to enter his full angelic form. Which probably meant they had something that could do real damage and they probably had made sure that more supernatural methods of escape were sealed.

Amitiel slumped onto a bed, giving himself a few moments to think. He really hoped he was dealing with someone patient. That would buy him a little time before they started trying to force his hand. He worked through options, quickly eliminating the more obvious choices. It wasn’t long before he was on his feat and pressing further into the ship, guessing which direction would get him to the engine room.

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