Quietly he issued orders.

"Put her in the back cell of the dungeon. Let her keep her clothing for now. Give her purse and cell phone to my secretary. Dispose of everything else. As of now she has ceased to exist."

Strong hands grasp your upper arms and half carry you down a long dark flight of stairs. At the end of a low corridor you are roughly shoved into a small cramped cell and a heavy wooden crashes shut behind you. You hear the bolt slide home and footsteps receding back down the corridor.

In the dark alone, you take stock of the situation.