Tina’s Trials
My problem
when I was a teenager and young adult was actually quite simple – people kept
trying to kidnap me for one reason or another.
For a period of three years, between 1981 and 1984, I was kidnapped
every few weeks – and all because I happened to be announced as the heiress to
a fortune without anyone bothering to tell me first!
My name’s Tina
– and when I was eighteen, I was a senior just finishing high school in
1981. I certainly wasn’t a cheerleader
kind of girl – I stood then about five foot seven, with unruly curly dark brown
hair, and my sense of dress style was not sophisticated – I was very much a
jumper and jeans or skirt girl. My one
real indulgence was I liked to wear boots – and that was because I found them
comfortable rather than any fashion aesthetic.
I mean – take
the first time someone tried to kidnap me.
July 4th 1981 – my family were staying with another one out
in the Hamptons, but it was an unseasonably cool day, so I had to wear
something warm with the intention of joining them at the fireworks. I had this designer jumper – dark blue upper
half with white stars, red and white stripes on the bottom half – which I put
on over a white polo shirt, then added a knee length light blue skirt, red
tights and knee length red suede boots.
Yeah yeah –
red, white and blue. I had just turned
eighteen, and Ronnie was in the White House – we were a very patriotic country
then. Anyway, I grabbed my purse, left
the house, locked the door, and started to walk down the street There was a gentle breeze blowing in my
face, and I waved to a few of the neighbours as I walked along the
sidewalk. I didn’t even notice the blue
panel van until I was alongside it – and then what got my attention was the
sweet smelling fumes that suddenly filled my nose and mouth as a cloth was
clamped over them.
My
recollection is that the shock of the event made me open my eyes wide and
breathe in – which, as hindsight has taught me, was the worst possible thing to
do, as I breathed it the fumes, and suddenly felt very, very sleepy. As my eyes closed, I was aware of someone
holding me, but that was it as I fell into a deep sleep.
When I
started to wake up, my arms felt very stiff and strange, and I felt as if I had
eaten a cushion or something – my mouth tasted of cloth, and something was
pressing on my cheeks.
When my eyes
finally agreed to open, I looked down to see my legs stretched out in front of
me – and two bands of white rope, holding them together at my ankles and just
below my knees, but very visible over the red.
I looked at
them, and whispered “what the...” Only,
what I heard was “Whththh,” and also felt something rub on my lips as I said
this. Which was the moment I realised
the reason my mouth tasted as if a cloth was in it was because a cloth was in
it – tied between my teeth and around my head.
So, legs
tied, a cloth tied round my head – I felt with my fingers and felt the band of
rope round my wrists, and realised why my arms felt so funny. MY wrists were tied together behind my back,
and I could now see a length of rope around my waist as well.
So, tied up
and gagged – I had been kidnapped.
Kidnapped? On Independence Day? I have to confess, my initial thought wasn’t
fear, or wondering who did that – those thoughts came later.
My first
thought was actually “bummer – I’ll miss the fireworks.”
Then came the
idea of who would do this, as I tried to free myself and shouted out
“HLPPPP!! SMBDEHLPMMMMM!”
“Save your
breath girly – nobody is going to hear you anyway.”
I looked to
the side to see two men sitting wither side of a table, casually dressed,
drinking beer from bottles. “Just keep
still and don’t struggle,” the other guy said, “we’ve told your parents what we
want – once they deliver, we send you back.”
“Dllffrewht?”
“Oh you know,”
one of them said as he walked over and pushed my hair back, “you know.”
Well, I
didn’t know, but no amount of shaking my head seemed to convince them – they
just laughed and went back to the table, laughing as they took another drink
from their bottles and playing a game of cards.
I just had to
sit there, wondering what was going on – until there was a knock on the door
. I could only watch as one of the men
got up, walked over, opened the door – and then was pushed back into the room
as two armed police officers ran in and held them at gunpoint.
A third one
came in and came over to me, untying the rag and taking it from my mouth. I could see the dark stain in the middle as I
coughed, and said “thank you.”
“The stupid
idiot didn’t see us following him after he dropped off the ransom demand,
Tina,” he said as he untied me and helped me up. There was an ambulance outside, and I was
taken to hospital, then allowed to go home.
When I asked my parents why this had happened to me, they said the two men
had mistaken for somebody else with the same name, and snatched me instead.
Well, I
accepted the answer at the time, but I guess I started to begin to wonder why
it happened. Apart from that, things
returned to normal, and in August I went to college in New York, living in a
flat with two other girls.
After the
turn of the year, things seemed to have settled down, and I was enjoying life
as a freshman student. Then it was
February 14th – Valentine’s Day.
My two flatmates had dates, I didn’t, so I watched as they went out of
the house, and settled down for a quiet night in.
It was
February in New York, and it was cold, so I had on a brown checked jumper over
a white blouse with a peter pan collar, and a knee length brown puffball
skirt. I also had on what were becoming
my favourite boots at the time – they were knee length, with an olive brown
cloth leg, brown leather shoe, and a three diamond brown leather inlay on each
side of the leg.
I was just
getting comfy on an old brown leather couch we had in the apartment, with my
legs stretched out in front of me, when I heard the knock on the door. I hadn’t ordered dinner, so I figured it was
the landlord wanting to check the plumbing for the umpteenth time. So I put down thaw magazine I was reading,
got up and walked over to the door, forgetting for the moment the first rule of
apartment living.
Always look
through the spyhole to see who it is before you open the door. If I had, I would have seen the man wearing
the balaclava, but – well, you live and learn.
I certainly did when I opened the door and then backed up, my hands in
the air as he came in with a gun pointing at me!
He marched me
back into the main room, and then ordered me to lies face down on the leather
couch. I really had no choice, as he
pulled my hands behind my back, and used some sort of thin cord to bind my
wrists together. When he had done that,
I felt my ankles being forced together as he used some more cord to bind them,
the thin rope sinking into the brown suede.
He then told
me to roll over, and as I did he pressed a length of silver duct tape over my
mouth, covering my lips before he started to search the apartment. Well, I had no idea what he thought he was going
to find – we were freshmen for the love of...
He came back
in, his eyes blazing with anger as he demanded I tell him where the jewels
were. “Whtjwllss” I mumbled back, as he
put the gun to my head and asked me again.
I thought I was for it then – before two of the NYPD’s finest ran in and
pointed their guns at him.
He gave
himself up, and I was released, but I had to ask myself why he thought I had
jewels in my apartment. This was the
Heights, not Park Avenue...
Anyway –
nothing really happened for a few months after that. I completed my freshman year, and got a job
up in rural Philadelphia as an intern at a paper for the summer. Job as an intern? Well, Mom and Dad sent money for the time.
It was early
August when I was asked to go and cover a farm auction out of town. For this, I decided to wear a green and gold
patterned jumper with a brown blouse, a knee length brown corduroy skirt, light
blue tights and the boots I had worn that night in the apartment. The sun was high, so I had on a pair of large
sunglasses as well.
The farm in
question had fallen on hard times, and the family had moved on – so this was a
case of selling up to settle their debts.
Never a nice thing to try and do a story on, but I wanted to be a
reporter, and you’ve gotta take the rough with the smooth as my mentor said.
I had to bear
that in mind as I walked round some of the barns that were around the
farm. They were so still, so empty and
devoid of...
I was going
to say life, but that idea was dashed when I was grabbed from behind, and an
old rag stuffed into my mouth before I could call out for help. And the thought that ran through my mind as I
was dragged into the barn?
“Oh no, not
again.”
So I was
dragged into the barn as a man in denims appeared before me. “You got her – good,” he said as my hands were
pulled behind me, and I felt rough twine as it was pulled tightly round my
wrists. “We’ll stash her in that hay
until I can get the van round.”
“Whthhllsgnnn”
I mumbled into the cloth as I was dragged over to some old straw bales, and
thrown back onto them while the other guy lashed my ankles tightly
together. As I wriggled round, the skirt
rubbed on the straw – and I had to stop myself from sneezing.
“Nobody’s
going to find her there,” he said as the other guy joined him, “let’s go.” And you know what? The way they left me, sitting between the
bales with my wrists and ankles tied, the chances were nobody would find me.
So there I
was, kidnapped again, and still with no real idea why the heck this kept happening! I tried wriggling to free myself, but the
knots they had tied with the twine were too small, and the noise my skirt
made...
My glasses
fell off eventually, and I looked down at the edge of cloth sticking out of my
mouth. Sticking out of my mouth,
with nothing to hold it in... Why the heck it took me so long to realise
it, I don’t know, but I opened my mouth and used my tongue t push the cloth
out, eventually watching it drop to the floor with a very wet thud.
Looking
round, I took a moment to catch my breath, wondering how I was going to get out
of this one.
“Hey – you
playing a game lady.”
I looked up
to see the two scouts looking at me from either side.
“Yeah – but
the kids who did this to me ran off,” I said with a smile. “Want to do your good deed and cut me loose?”
“Sure,” the
second kid said as he produced a pan knife and cut through the twine. I stood up, rubbed my ankles and gave them
both a kiss, before I walked back and had a quiet word with the county sheriff.
The two guys
were caught soon after – turned out they were a couple of local lads, but when
the sheriff asked why they did it, they refused to say. As for me, I filed my story, and went back to
my nice quiet summer – still no wiser as to why this kept happening to me.
In my sophomore
year, I was invited to spend Thanksgiving with some friends in Boston, and I
gladly accepted. So it was that I sat
down for the meal, wearing a gray cardigan over a black dress, and a pair of...
No, not those
boots – I had to throw them away after the got marked in those hay bales. These ones were loose fitting black felt,
with a native design brown band round the ankles.
Look – it was
the eighties, and believe me, those who say the Seventies was the decade that
style forgot are wrong. The Eighties was
fairly bad as well. Anyway, I sat down
for the meal and enjoyed the company, the chatter, and the food. It really was a chance for us all to give
thanks for many things.
So when I
went to my room after the meal, I was in a good and mellow mood. In fact, I felt as if I could face anything
at that time. What I did not have in
mind was someone throwing a black cloth hood over my head, and then two people
picking me up and carrying me across the room.
I knew it was
two – one was holding my legs, and the other had their hands under my
armpits. As to why I didn’t raise the
alarm – I had been taken completely by surprise, and by the time I realised
calling for help was a good move, I was dumped on a wooden floor and whatever I
was sitting on started to move.
As it did so,
my wrists were held together in front of me, and I felt some sort of tape being
wrapped round them. When I heard the
tearing noise again, and then my ankles been forced together, I hoped they
understood that was this pair ruined – and I really liked them as well!
What was
worse, they then wrapped rope around my arms and body, forcing them against my
sides – which meant the cardigan and dress were going to be ruined as
well. Great. I supposed at the time they were another pair
of nut jobs who thought I had something valuable or my parents were wealthy.
Eventually,
whatever I was in stopped, and I was lifted off the ground again. This time I really did struggle, and I must
have hurt one of the people carrying me because they almost dropped me. Not one of my smartest moves by any way of
thinking.
Then I was
dropped on a bunch of mattresses – this I know because they pulled the hood off
and, once my eyes adjusted to the light, I could see four of them standing and
looking at me. Looking at me with a
mixture of confusion and shock.
Eventually, one of them looked at the others and said “you snatched the wrong
flaming girl!”
“But she was
in the room you told us about,” another said, and I realised they were after my
friend, not me. I was offered her room
because the spare room was having some work done, and these bozos must have
thought I was her.
Did I mention
her dad was a Navy Admiral? No? Well, obviously they wanted him to do
something, but snatching someone from that sort of house? They were asking for real trouble.
As for me –
they put the hood back over my head, and left me there as I heard the door open
and close. There was then the sound of
shouting, and the door opened again before the hood was pulled off – this time
by a federal agent.
“We found
her,” he called out as he took a knife out and cut me free. They’d been alerted and found me in no time –
but this time it wasn’t me they were after.
And yet, as I walked out, one of them looked at me properly and called
out “kjo është e saj - trashëgimtari mbretërore!!”
The four of
them looked at me and dropped to one knee -
but before I got a chance to ask what was going on, the agents hustled
me out. There was something really
strange – and after the holiday week, I went home and asked my parents what was
going on.
They just
said it was a coincidence, that I was imagining things, but it just kept
nagging away at my mind. Why did I keep
ending up in these situations?
In April 1983
I was preparing to attend the church I went to for the Easter Mass on the
Sunday. As I usually did, I was wearing
a jumper, skirt and boots – in this case, a light brown jumper with a darker
bird motif, a skirt that was gathered a little at the hem below my knees, and
baggy black riding boots.
Anyway – I
was reading the passage I had been asked to read that morning when I heard a
knock on the door. Well, I’d learned my
lesson by then, so I looked out of the door spyhole – and saw Jack, the guy who
gave me a lift every week.
So I smiled
as I opened the door, grabbing my bag and following him down to his car which
was parked outside. It was only when I
got in that he said “sorry, Tina – they forced me to do this.”
“Do what?”
“This,” he
said as he looked at me, and then I felt the pin prick in my neck – the pin
prick that was followed by immediate deep sleep...
When I woke
up, I was lying on a mattress, and as I looked up I saw my arms stretched out
above my head, ropes around my wrists to hold them to the top of the bed.
Looking down,
I could see the ropes that were also tied round my ankles, then leading to the
bottom of the bed. The ropes allowed me
to move a little, but no way was I going to get free. More to the point, there was some sort of
tape pulling at the skin around my mouth, and it was keeping me fairly quiet.
I was
actually more worried about where Jack was – so when a voice said “your
boyfriend’s safe – we just knocked him out and left him on the sidewalk,” my
response of “whdddumkhmdths” was heartfelt.
I looked over
at the man standing there – he looked as if he was Greek or from the Med
somewhere, and he was tall. He just
looked at me, and then said “relax, your highness, you’ll be home soon.”
“Srrrwhtddduclmm?”
“Your royal
highness – but relax, when the family pay, you will be released.”
Now I was
totally confused – why was he calling your highness? Those men that Thanksgiving had called me
something that sounded like princess – what was going on?
He leaned
over and checked the ropes, and then brushed my hair away from my eyes. “Relax, it can be quite pleasurable like
this,” he said as he turned the television on, and left me in the room.
The only
thing I could do was watch daytime soaps for a while, and hope I could get
something to drink soon. A few hours
later, a masked man came in and released me, before a woman came in and laid a
tray of food and a glass of water on the bed after I set up. Before I could remove the tape from my mouth,
I watched as they both walked backwards out of the room, heads bowed.
I pulled what
turned out to be brown sticking plaster from my mouth, and took a long drink
before I started to eat the burger and fries.
As I swallowed the meat and bun, I picked up the glass and took a drink
– but when I put it down again, I saw writing on a piece of paper. Curious, I picked it up and read the words.
“Duck. Now.”
I then heard
a sound on the door outside, and ducked before it was blown out, and armed men
came in. I wasn’t able to say anything
at all as I was pulled out by two of them, and into the open courtyard outside. I could see the men and woman who had been
holding me, kneeling on the ground with armed guards behind them, but I had no
idea what the hell they had meant in the way they had looked at and talked to
me.
When I got
back to my apartment, Mom and Dad were waiting, and after we had hugged each
other – and I had hugged Jack – I asked what the hell was going on.
They looked
at each other, and then said they would tell me.
And so they
did...
The week
after my 21st birthday, I was in my apartment, still trying to
process what they had told me the previous month. I was dressed casually, and for once not in a
skirt – instead, I was wearing a pair of old blue jeans with a pair of knee
length black leather boots over the bottoms.
I still had a sweatshirt on though – a red one with blue upper sleeves
and “Colorado Cross Country Trip” on the front, the pan collar of my polo shirt
over the top.
Sitting on
the floor, I was looking through the papers that told me my ancestry. My grandparents had fled Albania before the
war, and settled here, giving birth to my dad, and I was the next generation.
The next
generation of the royal family of Albania – Princess Katiana, but my parents
always called me Tina. Still, they had wanted
to keep it secret, given we really did not have any money. They had always intended to tell me when I
was 21, but – well, turns out some of the times I’d been nabbed, trussed and
gagged were genuine kidnap attempts, and some plain dumb luck. Even that Thanksgiving thing was linked – my
friend’s dad had served in the Mediterranean.
I stretched
and stood up, heading for the kitchen with the intention of making some
coffee. So when I was grabbed from
behind, and a knife was pressed to my throat, I sighed and said “now what?”
“Shut up
lady,” a man’s voice said, “keep quiet and I won’t hurt you. Now, bend over that table and put your hands
behind your back.”
Like I had a
choice? I did as I was asked, and then
felt him tie my wrists together with rope, before he made me stand up and tied
my arms to my sides, the rope going above and below my chest.
“In there,”
he said as he pushed me into the front room, and made me sit down. I got a look at him – late teens, t-shirt and
jeans, sandy hair. He looked kinda cute,
but given he was tying the rope around my ankles, making it tight as it went
around and between my leather covered legs, I let that one pass.
He then
secured me legs together below my knees, before he rook a bandana from his back
pocket and rolled it into a band. I
opened my mouth and let him tie it as a cleave gag, watching as he went to
search the bedrooms.
It was
starting to get dark, but there was a standard lamp next to me, and the switch
was on a cord that lay across the cushion next to me. So I sidled over and used it to turn on the
red bulb so that there was a warm light in the room.
When the guy
came back in, he looked at the red light, and then at me – followed by the door
as it was thrown open and two agents came in, dragging him off as a third one
untied and ungagged me.
Well, being a
princess did have some advantages...
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