Grandpa had been right to be paranoid! They must have been watching him. That was certainly the best explanation for why I'd just been hit over the head and bundled into the back of a nearby van.
I knew the stone had been taken from me, but I was powerless to do anything about it. While I wasn't unconscious, I'd been given a hard enough knock that I was struggling to focus and getting up off the floor of the van was a non-starter. I decided the best thing to do was just to lie there and wait until I felt better. Perhaps then I could do something to rectify the situation.
The van drove for a few minutes before it stopped and I was hauled out, still groggy. We were in some sort of warehouse. I was manhandled into a chair and slowly came to focus on a man standing before me. He wasn't South American, that much was clear. When he spoke, he sounded European - maybe Dutch?
He held up the stone, and grinned. "Thank you so much for bring this back to me. You've made it easier than I could have hoped. I hope you'll believe me when I say I'm a man who does not like to be crossed, so you'll do well to stay out of my way from now on."
I wanted to be brave. Confrontational. Somehow save the day. But my head was throbbing and, in all honesty, I was terrified. "What are you going to do with me?" I asked.
He smiled. "Oh nothing too bad. Don't worry. I hope you'll understand it's nothing personal. Just business. Just something to ensure you have more to worry about than me, and stay out of my way."
With that he walked away, but he must have made a wish almost instantly because the next thing I know I was lying in bed at home, back in my bedroom. I'd barely had time to take this in when simultaneously my alarm went off and there was a knock on the door followed by "Time to get up, honey!" from my mom.
