Date:  Unknown

I wake up on what feels like a cold cement floor.  “Ugh…” My head is still pounding from whatever hit me.  I could use some Advil right about now.  I fidget around a bit in the darkness, trying to get my bearings.  Along with the tea cozy on my head, my hands are bound behind my back with what feels like some thick rope.  My legs seem to be free though.  Doesn’t really matter; I doubt I could get anywhere in my current condition, anyway.  Was I really awake? I was sure I heard someone or something just before I fell asleep earlier.

“Hello?  Anyone there?” I meekly ask, hoping for any kind of response at all.  My hopes are dashed, as my surroundings are silent.  Trying to keep myself calm in the darkness, I try to forget about my claustrophobia long enough to figure out a way to get my hands in front of me.  Luckily, whoever tied me up didn’t do the best job; the rope is loose enough to allow me some movement.  With some squeezing and grunting, I manage to slide my tied hands under my rear end, then in front of me past my legs.  I stand up and sigh loudly in relief.

“Alright, alright, don’t yell!  I am… up already!” I am startled by the sudden outburst and almost fall over again.  All the noise I made must have woken whoever else was with me.  Now that my hands are free, I quickly grab the tea cozy on my head and pull it off.  As I let my eyes readjust to the light, I notice someone is sitting on the floor not far from me, rubbing their face.  As I take a closer look, I think I recognize the figure.

“Captain Kirk? Is that you?” I ask, dumbfounded by the man staring back at me from the floor.  “Uh… what are you doing here?  Better yet, where is here?”

“Kirk?” He chuckles to himself. “Bill, boy; it’s just Bill.  As for where we are… in a basement somewhere in Poland.  That should have been obvious enough.  As for why I am here, well, I guess they aren’t fans like you, apparently.  And who might you be?  Do you have anything to drink on you?” What a strange thing to ask me.  I let what Bill says process quickly before I respond.  It seems he must have been here longer than I have already.  “I am Julian Nizinski, a P.I. out of New Jersey.  How long have you been here, if I might ask, and do you remember how long have I been out?”

“A dick, you say?  As for how long, less than a week, I would say, although I can’t be sure.  I was drunk when they brought me in.   You, on the other hand, have been out for a day and a half now, if I remember correctly.  I wasn’t feeling too well when you were brought in, so I don’t remember clearly, although you just moaned in pain when I tried to wake you.  Came in with a nasty lump on your head, if I saw correctly.  The thing on your head was pretty soaked in blood, from what I could see.” I was out cold for a day and a half?  It doesn’t surprise me at all, actually, as I am stiff all over the place.  I feel for any head wounds and find the lump on the back of my head.  Dried blood mats my hair in every direction.

But the situation is worse than I thought it would be.  I am now apparently in Poland, so that means I am in deep trouble now.  So when I thought I heard a plane, I was correct… I remember walking back towards my car after a meeting with Senator Woods, the owner of the Arlington Bureaucrats.  Something hit me in the back of the head; a baseball bat perhaps?  No… I don’t think it was a bat.  Something smaller, perhaps.  More importantly, as I was fading out of consciousness, I do remember one important detail.  A name was shouted as I lay on the ground: “Mishe”, to be exact.  The name instantly rings a bell: Mishe Sascheikov, the Lithuanian pitcher that was forced into a trade over from Denny in Palm Springs that I was trying to look into.

I finally have a good lead, despite all the pain I am in.  Oddly enough, this is exactly what I was searching for.  Now the question is whether Mishe was following me around, waiting to strike when the opportunity presented itself, or did Mr. Czosnyka or Mr. Kuklinski possibly order a hit on me?  Well, I am still alive, so that might not be it.  What about the senator?  He did seem to threaten me as if he knew something as I left his office.  “Mr. Nizinski.  Do be careful.  Wouldn’t want you getting hurt now, would we…” were his words, if I remember correctly.  I am left with even more questions than answers now, but when and if I get back to the States, I know who I have to see.  Mishe will not get away with trying to brain me, and he could possibly tie Mr. Czosnyka to the mafia.

As I gather my thoughts, a large man comes in and silently puts some plates with messy food on the floor for us.  This really is like a prison for us; I don’t know how we will get out of here… poor Jennifer.  What must she be thinking with my long absence and sudden disappearance?

Bill suddenly shouts at the man as he leaves, “Come on!  Give me something good to drink!  Just a little bourbon to pass the time.  I know you have some!  I can smell it!  Damn you!” He throws a rock at the closing door.  Bill looks incredibly distraught as he looks at his plate.  “I haven’t had any sweet nectar since being brought here…” I hear him mumble to himself.  I wonder why Bill wants alcohol so badly?  I guess it would be a nice distraction in this bad situation.  We quietly eat our measly grub, then I decide to try and fall asleep again as my head continues to throb.  Bill continues to mumble angrily at the door as I surrender to sleep.

I soon begin to lose track of time, although I honestly was already lost upon my arrival to the small, cold room.  What seems like days, even weeks, begin to slip by as the time is spent trying to keep myself entertained listening to Bill’s stories and watching his crazy antics, or trying to figure a way out of the room.  The room is about twice the size of my office, I notice as I pace around it intently.  Other than some empty boxes and crates, there is nothing in the room.  There are no windows to the outside world to tell what time of day it is, the only exit being a tightly bolted and guarded door.  What little light we get is from a weak bulb in the ceiling.  I am confused as I figured they would at least question me.  I have been watching Mr. Czosnyka and gathering information about the Pruszków mafia, after all; surely they would want to know what I have found out.  At least they would want to permanently shut me up, but we are only kept locked up, as if to keep us out of the way.

I try to think of a way to overpower the guard and get outside; otherwise, I fear death is all that awaits me and Bill.  “Don’t bother, kid; the guy’s tougher than he looks.  I’ve tried a couple times already,” Bill mentions as he notices me staring intently at my plate and the door.  “Why are we just kept here?  I don’t understand it, Bill.  I understand why I am probably here.  I still can’t figure out why you’re here, though.” I take a break from thinking about escape and go back to trying to figure out why Bill is here.

”Hmm… after a long day of looking for talent and finding none, I stopped for some drinks.  Soon after, I was stumbling around the streets of Kraków after a night full of fun and shenanigans.  Then I stumbled into another bar, and the next thing I knew, here I was.”

As we speak, the doors opens slowly; the guard has come for our plates.  “Mr. Shatner?  Are you okay?” At a second glance, this is not the same guard that has been watching us before.  I do not recognize this guard.  Odd that he is addressing Bill.  “Lukasha, is that you?  What are you doing here?  You’re associated with these scoundrels?” As Bill says his name, I remember Mr. Jennings calling me about this player.  A recent acquisition by the Thoroughbreds minor league system, I was going to investigate him eventually for possible ties with the mafia in New Jersey.  Seems now I won’t have to; he obviously is involved to some degree.

“I am very sorry, Mr. Shatner; I did not know they were holding you here.  Mr. Sweeney was getting nervous when he could not contact you or find you, so the team began to get uneasy.  As for me, my contract money goes to some shady people in order to keep my family safe in Klaipeda.  When I went to drop off the money as usual, I had heard whispers that a detective was caught snooping around in Virginia and taken to a bar in Poland where another man was held.  I paid a bit extra to find out who was being kept at the location and came here myself.  Luckily, you are being held only in a bar cellar, Mr. Shatner.  I was able to get the guards drunk and kept them busy by introducing them to some women.  So we should be able to walk out of here if we do it quickly and quietly.”

What amazing luck!  Finally we have a chance to make an escape out of this forsaken hellhole.  This is almost too good to be true.  “I knew it!  I can recognize the smell of good bourbon anywhere!” Bill exclaims as he embraces the man.  I can’t believe that is all that is on his mind!

“Follow me.” Lukasha leads us out of the cellar, up some rickety stairs and into a tight hallway.  We can hear the sounds of couples getting to know each other in nearby closed rooms; that must be the drunken guards.  We walk casually through a door into a busy bar.  The loud crowd and dark atmosphere makes walking unnoticed to our freedom easier than I thought it would be.  Lukasha is in the front leading us to the door with Bill stumbling clumsily behind him, looking anxiously from side to side.  I keep pace in the rear occasionally looking over my shoulder.  As I look back, I stumble into Lukasha.  “Bill!” Lukasha whispers loudly, and then goes in pursuit of Bill, who has made a mad dash for the counter.

Damn, Bill, this is not the time for a drink; we are not out of the lion’s den yet!  “Gimme a bottle of your best bourbon, my boy!” Bill is now shouting at the young barkeep.  Not understanding English or caring to see William Shatner a second time, he just makes a face at him as he cleans the glass in his hand.  As I catch up to Bill and Lukasha at the counter, he has already bought him a bottle of liquor and we are finally making our way for the door again, this time with a happily drinking Bill in tow.  Finally, we make it casually out the door and into the crisp open air.  Freedom at last.  I take a few lung-fulls of fresh air in as I try to catch my bearings.

“I have three tickets for a plane back to Kentucky, Mr. Shatner.  We need to hurry to make it to the airport tonight before anyone notices that you two are gone.” Lukasha nudges us along.  “Thank you, my boy.  You’re a life-saver; best prospect signing ever!” Bill laughs as he chugs down his bottle of Starka greedily like a baby sucks on his morning bottle.

I stop in my tracks after we make it a safe distance away from the bar.  “You two go without me.  They will probably come looking for me again as soon as I arrive back, so I don’t want to put you two in harm’s way.  This also gives me a chance to do some investigating here in Europe.  I do not think that they will look for me here.  Bill, you need to be careful when you return, probably hire a few bodyguards.  I’ll give you a…”

“You do not need to worry about Mr. Shatner, sir; he was only put down there to sober up for causing trouble in the bar.  The guard told me he was stripping on the counter, singing something about rockets.  I believe they just forgot why he was down there and kept him there because you arrived soon after.  They will think nothing of him being gone,” Lukasha reassures me.   A week, Bill… how drunk were you to think you were down there a week?  I sigh to myself as I say my goodbyes to the two men.  Hopefully they will make it back to the States and Kentucky without any issues.  I tell Lukasha to stay quiet about what has happened and to make sure to tell Bill to do the same.  I don’t want them getting dragged into this mess any more than they already have.

As for me, I think it’s time to do some snooping; I am now closer than ever to the heart of the beast…