72 Hours... Chapter 3

Within seconds of Justin falling limply to the floor, Chris was at his side, gently lifting the young man's head from the carpet, cradling it in his trembling hands while Johnny ran out into hallway to get help from one of the bodyguards.

“Justin...J?” he murmured as he ran a hand over his friend's pale, clammy face, not even noticing when Mike and Dre knelt down on either side of Justin's still figure.

“Chris...you need to get back,” Mike said calmly as he bent over Justin, running his hand over the young man's forehead before gingerly lifting one of his eyelids. At the same time, Dre ran his large hands over Justin's head, murmuring words of encouragement to Chris before gently pushing the younger man to the side. “You need to let me get a good look at him, Chris...move over...it's okay...he'll be fine...it looks like he just fainted...it's okay, man.”

“I don't think he hit his head on the way down,”Johnny said, bending over to place his hands on Chris's shoulders, gently tugging the unyielding young man back while Dre gently lifted Justin's head from his hands.

“Give them some room, Chris,” Johnny added when he continued to feel some resistance to his efforts.

“For just a sec, Chris,” Dre said, as he gently pushed Chris aside while speaking to Mike.

“We need to get him face down, Mike...just in case he gets sick then we need to prop his feet up on something,” he added, glancing about the room in search of pillows they could stack or a low table or chair.

“Johnny...drag that table over here,” he said, pointing over his shoulder at the coffee table not three feet behind the manager.

“Chris...go get a wet washcloth,” Mike instructed, trying to keep the young man busy before he and Dre carefully straightened Justin from his awkward, crumpled position then turned his body face down, his arms lying limply at this sides. They knew that the position was rather unorthodox, but the boy's physician, Dr. Kenneth Shannon, had told the bodyguards that this was the best possible position to put anyone in if they ever fainted or passed out. If the victim did happen to get sick, he would less likely to inhale anything they expelled than if he remained on his back.

Minutes later, Justin's knees were bent, his feet awkwardly propped up against the coffee table and Chris was gently wiping his pasty face with the wet cloth as he spoke in quiet tones in hopes he would awaken soon.

“If he doesn't come to in about five minutes, we'll need to call the hotel's doctor,” Dre said as he knelt back down by Chris to hand him a new, wet washcloth.

“I've already called him when you were turning him over,” Johnny murmured, not taking his eyes off the pair of young men on the floor. “He should be here in a few minutes.”

Just as Johnny finished his statement, Justin gave a small moan and slightly moved his head while a knock sounded at the door.

Several minutes later, under the physician's instructions, Mike and Dre hefted a very disoriented and drowsy Justin from the floor and carefully half-carried him into his bedroom where he was placed upon his bed.

“Tell me again...when did the episode occur?” the doctor asked, pulling his stethoscope off the back of his neck then bent over Justin, who was slowly but surely becoming increasingly aware of what was going on around him.

“About...ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago,” Johnny answered, glancing quickly at his watch, not even certain he was giving accurate information.

“Has he ever fainted before?” the physician asked as he straightened from his stooped position to retrieve a thermometer from his bag.

“No, sir,” Chris answered from the opposite side of the bed where he had stationed himself to hold Justin's left hand just as soon as he had been placed on the bed.

“Has he been ill lately, complaining of headaches, dizziness, nausea?”

“No, sir. We've been on tour and he's more than likely exhausted,” Johnny answered for Chris, giving the young man a look that meant, 'let me handle it.' He didn't want any information of the abduction of Joey, Lance and JC to be let out, if at all possible. Apparently, Chris and the bodyguards were on the same page since their answers had all been very general.

In the meantime, with a nod of his head, the physician allowed Chris to crawl onto the bed and settle himself right along side Justin, with his back against the bed's headboard. Things still appeared to be very hazy for Justin, his reactions to questions and requests from the doctor were very slow and sluggish, but when the bed had dipped with Chris's weight, he seemed to sense who was by him and automatically turned onto his side to face him.

As the doctor finished his examination, administering a shot containing a light sedative, Justin became completely aware of his surroundings, but was able to hide his reeling emotions until the doctor finally left the room, much to every one's relief. During the time that he had faced Chris, he had felt the older man's hand slowly run over his curls and heard the quiet words of encouragement and reassurance, but as soon as the bedroom door had closed behind the doctor's retreating form, the dam holding his tears in check broke and quietly, he sobbed.

“How is he?” Johnny asked the doctor as he anxiously hefted his cell phone from one hand to the other. He was prepared to call Justin's mother, Lynn Harliss, if necessary, or even Justin's father, Randy Timberlake since he was somewhat closer to where they were. Fortunately, the doctor's words soothed those fears, alleviating the need to make any emergency phone calls to parents, but heightened others.

“He's more than likely suffering from exhaustion, but I do have the distinct feeling that Mr. Timberlake also received a bit of a shock...maybe some bad news,” the doctor answered, gazing intently at Johnny and the two bodyguards, but their expressions yielded no answers and he inwardly shrugged. He had, through the years, been called into situations involving various celebrities and, more times than not, been met with the same stony expressions and vague language from those he treated and their companions.

“Well, I'm glad that he's not ill,” Johnny said carefully as he put on his best expressionless face that he had cultivated through his many years in the entertainment business. “What kind of instructions do we need to follow for Justin's care?”

“He needs rest. I'm also going to prescribe some medications that will help him in getting that rest. I've already given him one light dose of the sedative and I want him to take an additional oral dose this evening. He'll need to follow the instructions on the bottle for the rest of the doses until the medications are gone.”

“Can the hotel have this filled?” Johnny asked as he fingered the piece of paper that had been handed to him. He recognized the prescription that the doctor was prescribing and he inwardly groaned. Justin was going to be either out like a light for the next 24 hours with the two doses he would have today and would, more than likely, be a walking zombie for the next several days if he took the entire dosage.

“Yes...if you'd like me to, I'll just take it with me and have it filled and delivered to you within the hour,” the doctor said as Johnny passed the paper back to him.

“Is there anything else that Justin can take, doctor, besides what you're prescribing?” That's pretty strong medication for him. From past experience, he didn't function well at all when his home physician prescribed it to him last year,” Johnny stated, pointing at the piece of paper.

“It is strong medication, Mr. Wright, but Mr. Timberlake is in need of rest and, if I understand his profession well enough, sleep isn't always consistent nor is it always restful, hence the medications,” the doctor replied in a tone that left no room for argument. Wearily, Johnny nodded in agreement as he sighed. He knew that Justin wouldn't be resting at all with the situation surrounding JC, Joey and Lance and, if that was what he needed, then that was what he was going to get.

“Let me know, Mr. Wright if he shows any signs of dizziness or has another fainting episode. There is always a physician on site here at the hotel and when Mr. Timberlake returns home, he needs to see his primary physician so that he is aware of what happened. Here...this is my card,” he said, holding out a business card that he had pulled from his jacket's breast pocket. “Have Mr. Timberlake give this to his doctor so that he can contact me and I can fax any necessary documents to him.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Johnny replied, handing the card to Dre as Mike escorted the physician out of the suite and into the hallway.

Once Mike had returned to the room, Johnny dropped onto a nearby couch and held his head in his hands.

“This can't be happening,” the manager moaned aloud to no one in particular. “This can't be real.”

* * * * * * * *

Two of the four kidnappers stood assembled at the top of the cellar stairs looking down at the three unconscious, bound and gagged forms lying upon mattresses on the dirt floor below. The two remaining kidnappers moved from one inert form to the next checking vital signs and taking notes.

“Everything sounds good. Bass's heart murmur is a little pronounced, but we'll give him his meds when he wakes up,” Barrett called up to Lawrence and Cary, while Zachary finished retying Joey, JC and Lance's hands in front of their bodies with duct tape.

.

“How is Fatone's breathing?” Lawrence asked, as he walked down a few steps in order to have a better view of Joey's still body. Earlier, on their way in their van to their current location, Joey had experienced a brief period of labored breathing. They figured that it was due to his gag hampering his abilities to properly breathe and removed it. He was given a shot of benadryl to help with his allergies and, once his breathing returned to normal, the gag was replaced.

“I still can't believe we pulled this off,” Zachary said to Cary from his position by JC. “I mean...geez...two of us are med students and the other two are law students and we've turned kidnappers and...for what?”

“Hey...don't forget the professional bus driver in this little group,” another voice added, from the top of the stairs.

“Hey, Carl,” Lawrence replied, watching his older brother walking down the stairs. “Zach wants to know what we're doing this for,” he said in slight amusement, gesturing toward the three still figures down below.

“Prestige...money...being debt free,” Cary answered as he turned his back on the three standing on the stairs. He was beginning to feel his own uncertainties of what they had done, but he wasn't going to let anyone else know how he was feeling.

“Maybe, we're in it for a little revenge, too...isn't that right, little brother?” Carl added, slinging an arm over Lawrence's shoulders. The others looked at the pair in confusion, but before anyone could question what had been said, Lawrence spoke.

“Y'all need to hurry up. We need to be ready for the blond to read the list of demands to his management when he wakes up,” he called over his shoulder before climbing back up the stairs behind his brother.

“Hey, Larry...I need to ask you something,” Barrett called out as he stood up from beside Lance then trotted toward the stairs.

Lawrence nodded and made his way toward the doorway at the top of the stairs while Barrett took two steps at a time to catch up with the older men.

“I'll help Zach,” Cary said with little enthusiasm as he descended the stairs and joined the other in finishing their tasks.

“Here,” Zach said, tossing a roll of heavy duct tape to Cary. “Use it on their ankles and wrists.”

“What about gags?”

“We'll just leave the cloth for now,” Zach replied as he bent down before JC to remove the ropes binding his hands and feet. “If they happen to wake up and pull them out, no one but us will hear them.”

With a sigh, Cary began working on Joey, all the while thinking of how he had heard his roommate's crazy idea on how they could alleviate some of the debts they had accumulated with medical and law school and out of hand gambling. He had scoffed at Lawrence and thought his friend was either drunk or high the night he had shared some of the plans he and his brother had come up with. Cary had been certain there would be no way they could possibly kidnap a well-known celebrity and hold him for ransom. Then, when he had heard the new plans that had been formed by Barrett, Zach, Lawrence and Carl...plans that involved kidnapping more than one celebrity, he thought his friends had truly lost their minds. He had studied the plans and realized that nothing was left to chance...they were well thought out...detailed beyond reasoning and seemingly fool proof. Now, months later, looking down at three of the five members of the world famous pop group, Nsync, he realized the true meaning of lunacy.

“Finished here,” Zach said, interrupting Cary's thoughts. Cary watched as his friend stood up from JC's side and headed for the stairs. “I'm going to get their meds ready. We'll give Chasez another dose of valium to keep him out of it. We'll need to be careful with the other two.”

“You know, Zach...benadryl would work just as well and with fewer side affects...easier to get, too,” Cary suggested, wanting to keep the young men as safe as possible, in that respect at least. “We'll just have to space out the doses to make sure their respiratory isn't compromised.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the other answered over his shoulder, watching as Cary took one more opportunity to move among the still, unconscious figures before making his way to the stairs. Just as the pair began their ascent up the stairs, Lawrence and Cal appeared at the top of the stairs.

“We think we left something down here,” Lawrence said, as he and his brother pushed their way between the pair. Cary shrugged his shoulders at Zach's questioning glance then followed the other through the doorway.

“You want us to leave the door open for you?” Zach called out, holding the door to the kitchen open.

“Nah...go ahead and close it,” Carl answered, glancing up at the younger man. “We won't be down here for very long.”

“Okay.”

The pair heard the door close as they headed into the middle of the room where they quietly stood looking at JC's still form. The young man was lying on his back, dark circles under his eyes, his face flushed. His features were not bruised like those of his friends. Next, the pair saw that Lance had been left lying on his right side so that Cary and Zach could keep an eye on the still oozing scalp wound he had been given on the bus. Finally, Joey had been left lying on his left side since there was a large lump on the back of his head, behind his left ear.

“Hump...I can't believe we did it, Carl,” Lawrence whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yep...all for Pops,” his brother added, with a small grin, taking in the sight before him.

“You doing okay, big brother?” Lawrence asked, glancing at the other man to establish how he was handling seeing his employers lying unconscious before him. “Do you have a problem with this?” he added, gesturing toward the scene before them.

“Only if it fails,” his brother answered with a short laugh. “Remember...we're doing this to make sure he knows what we went through...he'll begin to understand...he will...I swear.”

The pair stood there for several moments, their thoughts tumbling about, mixed with bitter, angry memories of their father's failed business ventures that eventually led to his end. While Lawrence had become a law student to enact revenge upon those he felt had mistreated their deceased father, Carl had decided to become even closer to their sworn enemy and made every effort to be hired on to the WEG team when his younger brother found that justice was too slow and, more often than not, was not served, according to his standards. That line of reasoning was what had led the pair to plan their own revenge against the man who had caused them to lose their father to a premature death several years earlier. Unfortunately, they found that the man who he felt wronged his father was also dead, but that didn't matter to them. They had found an outlet for their anger...the man's son.

More than two decades ago, Lawrence and Carl's father, Jacob Davidson, had been involved in a fairly lucrative business when the boys were still in diapers. Jacob had been working with a business partner that he had known for several years. Regrettably, this new business partner had not been aware that Jacob had managed to hide the fact that he had had poor business sense in the past and had lost incredible amounts of money in several ventures. Eventually, Jacob made a critical miscalculation with the venture he was sharing with this partner, causing the business to go belly up. Lawrence and Carl's father had become overwrought knowing that he was the true reason behind the one time successful ventures demise, but he had not wanted that fact to get out. As a result, he caused several things to happen which allowed others to believe that he had not been the catalyst behind the failure, placing the blame solely on his partner. The guilt had eaten away at him, but the brothers were totally unaware of the facts that had been so well hidden by their father. In their young minds, their father, their hero, was not to blame...it was Chris Kirkpatrick's father, JP Kirkpatrick.

Although fairly young, Lawrence and Carl had seen the results of Chris's father's supposed mistake...their own father's failing health, the disintegration of their parents' marriage and their mother's alcoholism, all the time never knowing that their father was the true cause of all their problems.

In time, their father not only declared bankruptcy, but had also squandered what little savings the family had on one get rich quick scheme after another, each time failing miserably. As a result, the boys grew up in a broken home bent on revenge against the man they both hated...John Paul Kirkpatrick. And, since JP was dead, the next best place to lay blame was at the feet of his successful son, Christopher Alan Kirkpatrick.

“You know...I had hoped Kirkpatrick would have been on the bus...but this might be even better,” Lawrence murmured, turning in a tight circle as he stared at the inert bodies on the ground.

“Yeah...we might be able to make this work even better in our favor,” his brother added, nodding as a new plan began to form in his mind only to begin giggling seconds later. He had a wonderful idea that could possibly be the full culmination of the revenge they wanted to exact against Chris and his family.

“What's so funny?” Lawrence asked with a small smile, turning to face Carl who had walked over to a desk set in the far corner of the room, kicking up dust from the basement's dirt floor as he went. His brother sat down in the chair and, with a slight yank, pulled open one of the desk's warped drawers. Soon, he had an opened spiral notebook resting on the desk, furiously writing with his brother looking over his shoulder. Several times, Carl scratched through what he wrote or tore out a page, wadding it up before writing again on the next clean page. After several attempts, with Lawrence's input, the pair was satisfied with what he had written. With a grin, Carl motioned for his brother to follow him upstairs.

“Those boys are going to have some company soon...real soon,” he chuckled as he excitedly mounted the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, with Lawrence following closely behind.

* * * * * * * *

Johnny wiped away his tears as turned off his cell phone. He had just ended his conversation with Roy and Karen Chasez. It had been painful enough telling the Fatones and Bass families about their sons' kidnapping, but telling the Chasez family their son had been kidnapped just days before his 26th birthday had been excruciatingly difficult. What could he say? How could you possibly give parents news that might mean their son may never see his next birthday?

The dam holding his tears in full check broke minutes later after the police had finished informing the local FBI of the situation. Overhearing the phone call had been overwhelming for the manager and he excused himself to his suite where Mike and Dre found him weeping bitterly. The bodyguards urged him to take all the time needed to compose himself and had left the older man seated on his bed, staring out the bedroom's window.

It had not been long after the initial phone calls to WEG that bodyguards Lonnie Headnot, Jamie Williams, and Simon Peterson flew out to New York and now the five men were seated in the suite's main living area, staring at each other as well as at the phone that police had wired, willing it to ring...hoping that it would be Lance, Joey or JC wanting someone to pick them up...to bring them home.

Lonnie slapped his large hands harshly against his thighs, unintentionally startling those around him.

“Sorry,” he said rather sheepishly after seeing the other's reactions. “I'm gonna go check on Curly and Crazy,” he added, as he stood up then crossed the room. He nodded at the two officers who were seated at the table in the kitchenette then stopped in front of the door leading to the bedroom where the young pair was sleeping.

The opening of the door didn't cause either figure lying on the massive bed to stir in their slumber. Lonnie doubted it would have anyway. Johnny had informed everyone that the medications that Justin and, finally Chris, had been given were strong enough to keep them under for at least the next 6 to 8 hours, if they were lucky.

Slowly, the bodyguard crossed the room to stand at the foot of the bed then stood staring at the pair, a sad expression gracing his normally jovial features. Even in sleep, both Chris and Justin looked utterly lost. Justin's forehead was creased with worry that Lonnie could only remember seeing throughout the very few times when the young man had actually been scared during their years of touring. There was the one time when Lance had nearly fallen off his rising pedestal when the platforms had first been introduced during rehearsals two or three years earlier. One minute everything was going fine, the singling was beautiful then in the next minute, screams of fright could be heard and everyone, much to their horror, could see Lance dangling by his fingertips precariously from the edge of his platform while the other boys were immediately ordered to sit still in the middle of their own. Luckily, the technicians operating the platforms had been on the ball and Lance was very close to the ground when his grip finally failed him and he fell into the waiting arms of several roadies and bodyguards.

The other occasion that came to mind had only happened very recently and involved an overly zealous and determined fan who had forced her way closer to the action on stage. She had somehow managed to storm the catwalk and, before security could come between her and the boys, she had Justin flat on his back, straddling him, screaming and pummeling him in the chest with her fists in the excitement of reaching her goal. Mike and Dre had been the first to reach the pair and pulled her off Justin, while Joey and JC pulled the young man to his feet and made a wild dash to the main stage then off stage. Neither Justin nor the young woman suffered more than a few bruises and both, in all reality, had been scared out of their minds...Justin just by the sheer surprise of the force behind her assault and the young woman by the fact that she had actually met her favorite singer of the group, although in a rather unorthodox and violent manner. She later stated to the police that she had no idea what she was doing and her statement was believed. Despite the urgings of Justin, the group's lawyers filed simple assault charges against the girl. As a consequence, she was required to pay fines and was given several hours of community service to complete.

Lonnie shook his head at the memories as he knelt down beside Justin's still form and, with a large thumb, gently began rubbing at the creases that had formed between the young man's eyebrows. Slowly, the creases and lines of worry relaxed, seemingly erasing years from his features. Seconds later, Lonnie was rewarded with a small sigh of contentment from the sleeping form. With a sad smile, the bodyguard stood from his stooped position and walked around to the other side of the bed to bend over Chris. He noted that his features were just as tight as Justin's had been, just moments earlier and went about administering the same treatment but, unfortunately, without the same results...Chris's features remained just as tense as before.

Lonnie shrugged then stood back up from his stooped position, while, in the meantime, Chris turned over in his sleep, his left hand snaking out to snag Justin's outstretched left arm. Lonnie noticed that, almost immediately, Chris's face relaxed, causing the bodyguard to shake his head.

“Well, Curly,” he whispered, “You got someone watching your back while you're in here...you're going to be okay.”

With that said, the large man quietly crossed the bedroom, opened the door and left the sleeping pair behind.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hey...we've got an idea,” Lawrence announced excitedly as he entered the kitchen with his brother following close behind. “We know how we can make even more money.”

“How?” Barret asked, just as enthusiastically as he looked up from the newspaper he was reading. As far as he was concerned, this entire set up was an adventure that could not and would not fail. Besides that, no mention had been made of the kidnapping in the papers so, as far as they knew, things were in their favor that the upcoming demands would be met.

“Have the other two, Timberlake and Kirkpatrick bring us the ransom,” Carl answered with a certain gleam in his eyes that the others had not seen before.

“They'd never let them do that,” Cary replied in disbelief. “No way!”

“You know, Cary's right,” Zachary added. “There is no way their management will let those two out of their sight.”

“They will if the demands are tweaked just a little bit,” Lawrence answered with a grin as he handed a piece of paper to Zachary, who read it then, with wide eyes, handed it to Barrett. Cary looked over his should and read the new demands.

“That's nuts, Lawrence,” Cary blurted out after only making it half way through the document. “We can't do that...you're talking...you want to...kill one of them if we don't get our demands met?”

“Hey...in for a penny, in for a pound my grandma always said,” Barrett chimed in with a grin as he glanced about the room at his friend. “I say, let's do it...all the way.”

With that said, Barrett tossed the paper on the table then turned to the refrigerator and pulled out the makings for a sandwich.

“Anybody else hungry?” he asked as he place several items on the nearby kitchen counter.

“How can you think about food at a time like this?” Cary asked, his tone incredulous as he watched the others pulling things from the refrigerator.

“A sandwich sounds good, B. fix me one too, but no mayo,” Zachary said as he picked up the demands from the table to glance over it again.

“You're not getting cold feet are you, Cary?” Carl asked pointedly, suddenly standing in front of the young man to give him a scrutinizing look.

With all eyes now directed at him, Cary stepped back, raising his hands. “All I'm saying, guys is that we hadn't planned on anyone else other than those three,” he said pointing at the floor below his feet. “I just don't want us to get caught and for anyone to get hurt.”

As Cary spoke, Lawrence stepped to his brother's side. “All you need to worry about is keeping them alive. We'll handle everything else...right brother?” he added, gently elbowing Carl in the side.

“You know it, Larry...you know it.”