I could- n't get loose, so I could either go along with this gagged, or could just go along.I could- n't get loose, so I could either go along with this gagged, or could just go along. I looked into his eyes for a long moment, trying to find reassurance, feeling a little scared again. Imagine Bambi caught in your headlights: that's how I felt. I stretched my mouth open, keeping my eyes on his. My lips would have quivered if the gag hadn't been pressing against them. In it went. He didn't even bother with the strap this time. I couldn't get it out without a free hand. A small, heavy bag plopped onto the table next to my head. I twisted and rolled my eyes to get a look at it, loose ends of the gag strap flopping. He folded a wet towel and laid it on my abdomen (Josef Mengele/operations/scalpels/Charles Manson/body-parts-found-in-the- woods-by-hysterical-campers flashed through my head. I have an unfor- tunate imagination.), and out of the bag poured a small heap of gold- colored chain. (I asked later: It is only gold-plated steel; otherwise I would be worth a small fortune right now. |