The dry leaves crunched under James' feet as he trudged towards his grandmother's terrace home. A quiet child had become an even quieter teenager and James still walked with his head down and his body hunched against the sharpness of the wind. He arrived at his grandmother's front gate and collected the mail calling for Trudy the collie as he walked up the front path. His father's life as a detective had established in James a definite comfort in routine and this afternoon's activities were no different. Eager to tell anyone who would listen the results of his final exams James was surprised to find his grandmother not at home. Where was she? His surprise gave way to concern as he checked the fridge for a note and the upstairs bedroom for any clue as to where his grandmother might be. There was no sign of her.

As James slowly descended the creaking old stairs he looked to the photos on the wall for some clue. If only they could speak he thought. His grandmother was a photo guru and every wall and table was cluttered with photos whose subjects seemed to follow James with their dark piercing eyes. Shaking away the disconcerting thought James headed back towards the kitchen. As he passed the hall he checked the calendar for any appointments or social activities his grandmother may have been at. Since his grandfather has passed away eight years earlier James' grandmother spent hours at afternoon teas, bridge games and less than thrilling games of bingo. But the calendar held no clues, in fact it appeared that something had been planned for the day of June 12th but it had been rubbed out. Strange, thought James as he traced the imprint of the words with his finger. "What's the matter with you man", muttered James to himself, "it's probably nothing stop being ridiculous." Determined not to panic prematurely James grabbed a coke from the fridge and turned back towards the lounge room to make a start on his mountain of maths homework. As he turned he spotted a piece of paper taped to the back door. Instantly intrigued by a note taped to the glass his grandmother meticulously cleaned every second day James approached the back door. Even more disconcerting was that this not was definately not his grandmother's handwriting. His knees weakened and he sank to the floor as he read the note written in crude, angular handwriting,

"We have your old lady. We want the book. Wrap it in the Christmas paper left in the old woman's left bedside table and deliver it to the park bench behind the old police station by 10pm tomorrow night. Tell no one! If the book is not delivered do not expect to see your old lady again. Bear in mind her medication remains in the top drawer of her left bedside table. I repeat tell NO ONE!"

James read the note several times as he tried to absorb the situation at hand. They had his grandmother! But what book were they talking about? James' grandfather, a self confessed book-a-holic, had hundreds of books covering the walls and floor of James' fathers' old bedroom which had been converted into a disorderly library of sorts.

Later, as James stared up at the hundreds of books in his grandfather's library he knew there was no way he could work out which one these people wanted. So how could he find out? Maybe he should call his father. But then he remembered the note had specifically told him to tell no one. What if he could communicate with the kidnappers. Heading back to the kitchen for a pen and paper James checked his watch: 4:37. That was ok he had some time. Retrieving paper and a pen from the drawer by the phone James wrote, "I do not want my grandmother hurt in any way but I cannot fulfill your request without knowing which book you require. Please allow me the title or author of the book so I can locate it for you as soon as possible. No one else has been informed." As he folded the note James prayed a silent prayer for this to work.

It began to rain as James headed purposefully for the park bench the kidnappers had written about. Pulling his jacket closer around him and surveyed the deserted park with some trepidation. Were these kidnappers dangerous? James took a deep breath and approached the bench. The sooner he did this the sooner he could go home. He taped his note to the park bench and turned towards home.

As James walked up the front path back at his grandmother's place he searched for the house key in his pocket. Finding it easily he fumbled with the key in the lock. Hadn't he left the front light on? He was sure he had switched it on. Dismissing the thought James went inside listening for any noise that might mean someone else was in the house. It was quiet...too quiet.