Something hard lands on the car’s roof just above my head causing both Cuthbert and I to look to my side of the car.
There’s the tiniest fraction of a second between a second clunk and the passenger door being opened. Norm Sortwell is there and he’s holding a Taser in his free hand.
There’s a buzzing sound and a blue flash as the Taser hits Cuthbert’s neck. So quick is Norm’s movement, the FBI agent never gets a chance to even see his aggressor.
I know my hand is reaching for the gun I’ve placed in the centre console, but all my senses are focused on Norm and the gadget in his hand.
A whiff of scorched flesh assaults me as I fumble for the weapon.
I’m too slow.
The last thought I have as Norm reaches over Cuthbert’s twitching body and presses the hot tines of the Taser against my neck is that I’m about to be at his mercy. Instead of trying to get the gun I should have been trying to knock the weapon out of his hand. Or maybe opening the door so I could stand up and fight him.
As he presses the button on the Taser, I feel my body convulse as the current does its job and incapacitates me. There’s pain at first, but that gives way to a confused anger as my limbs refuse to obey any command I try to give them.
I’m aware of things but they don’t make sense. All five of my senses are gathering information as usual but my brain isn’t able to process it. Instead there’s just a jumble of mixed-up data.
The rattle of wheels on rails is fighting the smell of cooked flesh. My limbs bang of various parts of the car as they spasm. My eyes see the kaleidoscope of shadows thrown by the passing train and my mouth is filled with the acrid taste of defeat.
I don’t know where Norm has got to, but I can’t control myself enough to look in one direction with any clarity. Even if I do know where he is, I can’t mount any kind of defence in this state.
Nothing happens for a minute except Cuthbert and I thrashing about as we try to garner control of our bodies. He’s making some kind of gargling noise. At first I think he’s struggling to breathe, then I realise he’s trying to speak. Maybe it’s his tongue or my confusion, but I don’t understand what he’s trying to say.
My door opens and a shadow appears. I recognise Norm as strong hands bunch into my shirt, haul me out of the car and dump me onto the tarmac.
I try to fight him as he drags me by the collar, but the Taser’s effect hasn’t dissipated enough to give me any control of my arms or legs.
Norm stops dragging and stoops over me. I feel my shirt being torn off my back and the bulletproof vest being removed. A hand grasps my belt and another rests underneath my armpit.
The tarmac below me gets further away as Norm lifts me into the trunk of his car. My feeble attempts to struggle resemble a baby splashing in a bath. The lid comes down and I’m left in darkness. Cramped in a small space with twitching limbs.
78
I focus on my watch’s second hand to drive away the confusion in my mind. As the pointer begins its fourth trip around, a measure of control comes back to my arms and legs.
From the front of the car I can hear loud music. It’s the kind of stuff played at the Tree. I recognise the song as ‘Drowning Man’ by U2 just as it fades out and the bluesy opening of ‘Black Water’ by the Doobie Brothers filters in.
With brain and body functioning again. I run through my options. They’re more than limited.
First I concentrate on trying to escape. The lock mechanism of the trunk is encased in the bodywork of the car. If I had a set of wrenches and sockets I may be able to gain access and pop the lock.
Wriggling around, I use my fingertips to search for a release lever. If I can get into the back seat, there’s a chance I can overpower Norm before he brings the car to a halt. I fumble along the rear of the seats but find no release catch or lever.
With escape ruled out, I shift my focus onto defence. Believing attack is always the best kind, I start feeling around for a weapon. Anything will do – a screwdriver to jam into his gut, a wrench I can use as a club or ideally one of his murder tools. All I find is a plastic bottle filled with some kind of liquid.
I unscrew the cap and sniff the contents. I’m not certain, but I think it’s brake fluid. It might work as a temporary distraction if I can splash some onto his face and eyes. While he’s recovering, I can jump out and land a few heavy punches before he gets his sight back. If he drops the Taser so he can rub his eyes I’ll be able to use it against him.
As much as the confined space allows me, I stretch and move my limbs to prepare them for a sudden assault.
I hear the familiar and distinctive riff of Smoke on the Water followed by Ian Gillan’s voice as I reach down and unpick my laces. I kick off my boots, gather them to my chest and re-thread the laces through the top eyelets only.
Wrapping my left hand into the loose end, I leave a clear foot between my hand and the boots. It’s a rudimentary weapon, but it’s the best I can come up with.
A pat of my pockets shows I have my cell with me. The battery might be dead but it may still be traceable. As soon as Cuthbert raises the alarm, Alfonse’s first idea will be to triangulate my cell. I just hope he’s quick.
Another concern is Cuthbert has been killed. While taciturn and monosyllabic, he isn’t a bad guy. I’d hate to be the reason he lost his life. I know I’d feel guilty for the rest of mine.
The music changes again, but I don’t know this song. In the quiet of the changeover, I also detect the sound of tyres on gravel. The car is moving slower and the road rougher.
I tense, expecting the car to stop as soon as it reaches its destination.
79
The car draws to a halt. Every fibre of my body is tensed ready to spring into action. I’ll only get one chance to attack Norm. I have to make it count.
I’ve rehearsed this moment in my mind at least a dozen times. Splash the brake fluid in his eyes, leap out and swing the boots into the side of his head. Then it will be a case of throwing endless punches until I’ve subdued him.
Like all plans it can fall apart due to the slightest miscalculation.
I hear the car door slam and footsteps crunching gravel. The trunk pops open but the lid doesn’t rise at once. I wait for a Taser wielding arm to snake in.
It doesn’t come.
There’s two more footsteps, then the trunk lid is raised.
I don’t see any sign of Norm.
What’s his game? Is he playing with me? Hunting me?
Whatever he’s up to, I can’t do anything about it lying here. I swing my legs out and look around. It’s too dark to make out where we are, but my nose is picking up country smells.
I see him standing at the side of the trunk, out of immediate reach.
I try throwing the brake fluid anyway, but he sees it coming and ducks his head away.
Using his movement to my advantage, I stand up and swing my improvised weapon at his head.
A boot catches the edge of the trunk and collides with its mate, knocking my swing off target. The boots hit Norm’s shoulder, but they’ve lost most of their momentum and don’t have the desired effect.
He straightens as I throw a vicious right cross. It’s a glory punch, but I’m desperate. My intention is to lay him out with a single blow and end this fight.
Norm sees it coming and jerks back, roaring in pain as my fist crashes into the side of his nose.
The momentum of my punch carries me past him and I feel a solid fist hitting my ribcage a second before I feel the sting of his Taser on my chest.
Once again it incapacitates me. I lie on the gravel trying to force some control into my thrashing limbs without success.