His voice came over the line between the rings. “Listen carefully and don’t speak. They took them away. They are not longer here. They are at 11 Decency Gate.” He was breaking up. I yelled, “Who took them? What is the number where I can reach them?” But he was gone amidst the crackle between the rings. The man on the phone sounded just like Gordon, but how could that be? Who was he?
Somehow, I knew that 11 Decency Gate was in Amsterdam. The thought that people had taken my sister and Gordon against their will twisted in my gut. In a panic, I dialed 0-1-1 for the international operator but when I heard the operator’s accented voice, the line went dead.
I woke up.