When he reached for the car door, he felt a sharp stabbing pain in the right side of his neck. He whirled to the right and saw the brunette holding a syringe with a needle attached. He started to speak, but the keys were ripped from his grip by the man to his left, and the sliding door on the van behind him was wrenched open. He tried to yell, but his tongue seemed swollen and numb. He was dizzy, and his breathing had become labored.

A powerful set of hands grabbed him from inside the van and dragged him in. Stanley was aware of the door closing, and the familiar sound of his car’s engine starting. A female voice from the front of the van said something he could not understand before he became aware of the vehicle’s movement.

By now, Stanley could barely breathe, and he was aware of a heavy sensation in his chest. He tried to look around, but couldn't get his head to move. Something was very wrong, but right now he couldn't be sure what the problem was. In fact, he realized he wasn't even sure at the moment what his own name was.

The van traveled eastward, eventually stopping at the marina where an impressive speedboat was tied to the dock. The still-breathing form of Stanley Waldorf was stuffed into a large plastic container and removed from the van by the brunette and her partner.

Stanley's vehicle didn't show up at the marina, in fact, at that moment it was backing into a self-storage locker, twelve miles away. The person renting the locker told the facilities’ manager that they were taking a position as a missionary in the Congo and would be gone for three years. Even though this was a bit unusual, three years rent in cash easily persuaded the owner to accept the arrangement with no further questions. The door to the storage locker was closed, and the padlock locked shut.

A dolly was used to load the large plastic box marked SCUBA equipment onto the boat. The box was placed in the back of the boat, and the mooring lines were untied. The boat slowly moved away from the dock and headed east out into deeper water, continuing to gain speed.

After fifteen minutes, when the shore was no longer visible, the boat slowed to a stop.

Stanley was removed from the box, dragged to the back of the boat and laid flat on his back. The man collected a set of ankle shackles, and these were woven through the three holes on a concrete cinder block and clamped to each of Stanley's ankles.

While this was being done, the brunette fastened handcuffs which had been fed through a second cinder block to Stanley's wrists.