"I don't know! You're the businessman here! What do people usually do in situations like this?"
What people usually do is disappear in the middle of the night, or beg their families for money, or agree to work off their debts in ways that aren't always legal. But Madison Sullivan doesn't need to know about those options yet.
"Some people choose to work directly for me," I say instead. "To provide services that offset their debt obligations."
"What kind of services?"
"That would depend on your skills and qualifications."
“I don’t have a work visa.”
“Well then, that complicates things further. I’m sure there is something we can work out.”
She's quiet for a long moment, and I can almost hear her weighing options she doesn't fully understand.
"What did you have in mind?"
"We could discuss specifics in person. These matters are too delicate for phone conversations."
"When?"
"This evening. I'll send a car."
"Oh, that's not necessary. I can drive myself."
This is where the day gets interesting.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," I tell her. "Your rental car appears to be having mechanical difficulties."
"What? No, it was fine this morning. It’s parked at the bottom of the hill below my house."
"These mountain roads are very hard on vehicles, especially ones not designed for such terrain. I took the liberty of having it towed to a repair shop."
The silence stretches so long I think the call might have dropped.
"You had my car towed?" Her voice is very quiet, very controlled. “My only transportation?”
"“The rental company flagged it; a mechanic picked it up.The brake lines looked questionable and potentially dangerous."
"The brake lines were fine yesterday."
"Did you check them? Mountain driving can reveal hidden weaknesses."
More silence. When she speaks again, there's something different in her tone. Not quite fear, but the beginning of understanding.
"Are you telling me, I'm stranded here without transportation?"
"Only temporarily. Until the repairs can be completed."
"And how long will that take?"
"These things are difficult to predict. Parts must be ordered, schedules must be arranged. Could be days. Could be weeks. Sometimes things move slowly in small villages."
I can hear her breathing on the other end of the line, processing what this means. No car. No way to leave the village. No way to run from a debt she can't pay.
"This is kidnapping," she says finally. “You’re kidnapping me and holding me here against my will.”
"No, this is simply automotive maintenance," I correct. "Though I understand your frustration with the timing."
