Batman. Because I don’t just want the kidnapper caught. I want someone who is going to kick the living shit out of the kidnapper before turning him over to the police.
I’ve got it:
Sherlock Holmes to lead the investigation to find where I am in time.
Batman to lead the rescue party to kick the shit out of the kidnapper.
Charlie’s Angel’s to lead the recuperation party. All of them.
Oh, without a doubt. I can’t believe it took 74 posts to get there.
Dammit Ivan, I wanted to say Reacher!
WAIT!
Doc Savage, Man of Bronze.
Smart as Holmes, as “prepared” as Batman, gadgets better than Bond, a staff of pros better than the Continental Op (each, individually, I mean), and amazing as a detective.
And he owns his own zeppelin! Every detective needs a zeppelin!
Dr. Tony Hill from Wire in the Blood. He specializes in this sort of thing.
The problem with your plan is that you don’t know about Ned’s powers, if you’re a native of his world.
Ahem. Post#26:
Oak, I figured when you came back to the thread, it would be to threaten me for slandering the villainous Willow Rosenberg. I’m glad to see you’ve come around and I can have her neutralized without any interference from your quarter.
Yeah, but only in the brownie episode!
Nah. I’d strongly prefer you not do that, particularly as it remains theoretically possible that she could be kinky for middle-aged semi-druidic atheist lawyers, but she has ample defenses of her own. I’d prolly want to watch the fight.
I’m not going to fight her myself. That would be stupid. I’ll be sending Gwen Tennyson, Kim Possible, and Xena after her.
Lucas Davenport of the Prey series. He does whatever it takes to get info out of people, and if he decides the world would be a better place without someone he kills them. If Davenport can’t save me in time, at least I know he’ll avenge me.
OK, now I’ll pay to watch the fight.
Dirk Gently. He’ll see the interconnectedness of all things, and somehow wrangle an ancient god to rescue me and smite someone, or perhaps talk a forgetful time traveler into coming to my rescue by warning me before I’m even abducted.
Did you forget that his first client in The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul was beheaded because Dirk couldn’t bother to get out of bed on time? I wouldn’t trust Dirk Gently to watch my pet snake.
Stranger
That’s because the client told him he had to be there at 0-dark-30 to save him from a green-furred (or was it a furry, green-eyed?) monster waving a scythe about and muttering about contractual obligations. So he didn’t take him seriously. Thought he was a nutter. Totally understandable.
I, on the other hand, would simply tell him someone’s trying to kill me. Perfectly plausible; murders happen all the time. Hell, you can’t leaf through the Metro section of the morning paper without seeing at least a half-dozen of them.
Plus, willing diligience and engaged curiosity is provided by simply supplying a large pizza, and veiled hints of “disturbing, importunate signs” of impending trouble through some semi-mystic medium, and he’s all over it.
For extra motivation, just toss in some scorn for the police, as in, “Mr. Gently, if I simply wanted a chalk outline drawn about my corpse, and all the proper forms filled out in triplicate, then the police would be at the very top of my list of people to call, but since I have higher expectations than a coroner’s slab and bureaucratic indifference, I have placed my trust, and, you’ll note, a sizeable wad of cash, into your capable hands. I want to know why this serial killer has chosen me; what’s our connection? How does it all tie together?”
Ah, well, sure. But who would know that Encyclopedia Brown lives by kids-book rules or that Sherlock Holmes never loses a pugilistic encounter? Or that Willow Rosenburg and Harry Dresden have magical powers? &c. 
Well there was one case where Carella did not arrive in time.
I.d go with Joe Friday. Not only would he rescue me and catch the bad guy but Iwould be certain that trial would be held in a court in Los Angeles. And after the commercial break I would know the results of that trial.
Three pages and no one has mentioned the most hard-boiled of shamuses, Sam Spade.