Chapter 21

The small man’s mouth was bleeding. He licked his lips gingerly, felt for his teeth with his tongue. He didn’t think any were broken, but the front ones felt loose and they were aching like hell. His ribcage had taken a pounding and it hurt when he breathed out. The skin had been scraped from his hand and shin as he’d been dragged along the pavement. The back of his hand was raw and embedded with an ugly swathe of grey grit particles which he knew from experience would have to be individually and excruciatingly removed with tweezers. His only pair of good grey flannels was ripped across the knee and his navy blue blazer dusty and spattered with something that looked like rotten banana. He wasn’t a brave man. He perched apprehensively on the delicate pink and gold chair where they’d shoved him and tried not to cry.

Someone thumped him hard between the shoulder blades.

“Drink some water!” the voice behind him shouted.

Obediently he lifted the glass from the bijou table beside him and took a few sips. The water took on a pinkish hue.

“Keep drinking!”

He lifted the glass to his lips again, trying not to gag. The bloody water disgusted him.

“That’ll do. Now answer the questions.”

“Of course I will try . . .” he began, feebly attempting a stab at urbanity.

“Shut up until you’re told to speak. You’ll do more than fucking try. Got it?”

He nodded, triggering a burst of pain in his head. He clutched it with his uninjured hand.

“Put your hand down and listen. Put it down, I said!” The man behind him grabbed his hand and flung it roughly to his side.

“Now,” said another voice. “Stay there like that. Don’t look round. Just listen, and speak when you’re spoken to. First of all, we want to know what you’ve been up to. Exactly what you’ve been up to. Then we’re going to tell you what you’re going to do next. And you’d better do it, if you know what’s good for you. Understand?”

The man behind him poked him viciously in the back.