I awoke several hours later in a daze on the floor. I had faint memories of passing out (excuse the pun). However, I didn’t remember handcuffing myself to my desk leg. I looked around to find my office had been ransacked again and that for the second time for what I presumed was still today, someone that wasn’t me was sitting in my chair. My PI sense was tingling; this was somehow linked to the case I hadn’t started working on yet. (My God, these people are fast workers. Why isn’t my bank like that?)
“I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse my not standing but I’m kind of tied up with work at the moment.”
The man rose from my chair, and walked around to where I could see him properly.
Have you ever been in the situation where you see someone, say... across a room…. and pure instinct tells you that causing trouble with that person would be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, in a life time of stupid things? Well, now take that feeling and couple it with the words, ‘Oh, my God, it’s too late’, and you should have an understanding as to what was going through my head as my capturer came into view. My only chance was to hope this mean looking man was really a puppy dog inside, and he was waiting for me to wake up to see if I needed any help. (Oh please, oh please, oh please.)
“Good, what I assume is afternoon. I don’t suppose you would be a pal and hand me the hand-cuff keys I keep in the top right hand drawer of my desk?” (Oh please, oh please, oh please.)
Cheesy smiles have never worked for me in the past, but, hey, there was a first time very everything. The man kneeled down next to me. “My employer wants me to tell you something.”
His voice sounded very strange, as if it were echoing around his head before coming out of his mouth. Also, lying on the floor looking up at this gorilla of a man was very off putting.
“Oh, good. If you can un-cuff me I can make some coffee, and we can sit down and you can tell me.”
The man looked totally bewildered. “But your coffee machine is broken.”
“It is?” I shuffled around to see the mess that once was my coffee machine. “Well, I’ll be damned! Any idea how that happened?” I looked at the man.
“Well… I broke it.”
I tried very hard to look shocked. “Why did you break my coffee machine?”
Again, the man look puzzled. “Well, that’s what I do. I break things.”
I swallowed hard the strong feeling to scream like a little girl. “No, no, not any more. You said you came here to tell me something, now you deliver messages.”
The man sat down on the floor next to me. “But the boss told me to tell you that I had broken your arm.” The look of complete and utter disarray on this man’s face could win prizes.
“But you haven’t broken my arm. Are you sure that’s what he said?”
His face was amazing. It was clear that he was trying to think, but it also looked like he was failing miserably. It was horrible, but I couldn’t look away.
“I was just going to break your arm and then tell you about it. But now I’m not sure.”
For the first time since I came face to face with my capturer I started to think I might come out of this encounter alive. “Well, why don’t you go back to your boss and check? And if you give me my handcuff keys in the top right hand drawer of my desk I can see about fixing my coffee machine, so that we can have some when you get back. Sound like a good plan?” (Oh please, oh please, oh please.)
I think what the man was doing at this point was smiling, but I wasn’t sure. He climbed to his feet and went back to my desk, opened the top right hand drawer and pulled out my handcuff keys. He then walked back around and put them in my hands. “Here you go, I’ll be right back.”
And with that he left.
I spent the next few minutes lying on the floor of my office crying. And crying, and crying and crying. I managed to calm myself down, and take the handcuffs off. To my surprise I found that my gun was lying on the floor where I had originally lain down. I grabbed it and my coat, and ran from my office as fast as I could. I needed a drink and the dockside pub was as good a place as any.