I did as I was ordered and the four guys formed a semicircle in front of me. One of them had a can of mace at the ready; another held a Taser. It was almost as if they were willing me to start something.
The metal was cold on my bare back and arse but I didn’t have time to think about it. The woman pushed my head back and dug around in my mouth with a spatula.
I could smell smoke on her shirt. I hoped she wasn’t too pissed off about being called away from her cigarette break, because I had the feeling this was about to get very intimate.
I wondered what they were looking for. Drugs? A miniature bomb under my tongue? Or were they just putting me through the wringer?
More important, where was Charlie?
She put the spatula aside, and probed around my gums with a finger.
What next? A free orange suit and daily trips to the interrogation room on a handcart? Who the fuck did they think I was?
She checked my ears, then dipped back into the box for a party-size tube of KY jelly. I was obviously going to get the full Saddam.
She squeezed some onto the first and middle fingers of her right hand. ‘Stand up, bend over and touch your toes.’
I had only one consolation: it was going to be worse for her than me. I’d been saving up all day for a dump.
I felt her finger slide in, have a good dig around, then withdraw.
‘Stand up.’
I avoided looking her in the eye. I didn’t want to give her even the hint of a smile.
The heel of a boot slammed into my back and sent me flying towards the wall. I knew that was just for starters. They’d warm themselves up with a few more of the same before mob rule took over. They really did have hatred in their eyes.
I took the fall, curled up tight, and waited. Boots advanced on me across the floor. I kept my face covered, but one eye open.
One of the radios crackled and the wearer quickly pushed in his earpiece to keep it private. He conveyed whatever had been said to him to the others in hushed tones. They looked at me, clearly disappointed. That was it, then; they must know I was the TV star. It was now Georgian police time. I tried to kid myself it was a better option.
The medic pulled off her glove and deposited it into a plastic bag and bundled all her toys back into the box. She pointed at the chair. ‘Sit.’
I got to my feet, but not quite quickly enough. One of the guys helped me on my way with his toecap.
The aluminium hadn’t got any warmer. I heard the slurp of KY as I shifted position, then the sound of gaffer tape being ripped off a roll.
2
They grabbed my wrists and forced them up against my temples, then got busy with the tape. They wrapped it around my hands and head like a bandage, then down under my chin for good measure.
I clenched my fists as tightly as I could, trying to create some slack in the tape when they’d finished. Even a little bit of play might mean my circulation wasn’t cut off. I knew I wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry, but knowing that I was resisting in some small way made me feel better.
Next they turned their attention to my arms, binding them together just above the elbows, locking them firmly under my chin.
No order was given, but they suddenly stepped back as one and left the room.
I glanced around me. My clothes were gone, and there was no way out.
My hands more or less covered my ears, but I’d heard the door being locked from the outside, and the four ventilation grilles were no larger than letter boxes. Besides, they probably had me under CCTV.
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. Sweat stung the skin beneath my chin. I must have stayed like that for an hour, maybe more.
I tried to keep optimistic.
I’d fallen in more than my fair share of dung heaps over the years, and while I might not always have come up smelling of roses, I’d been able to keep a certain percentage of me shit-free and easy on the nose.
I’d taken a bit of punishment along the way, but somehow always managed to get away with it. I guessed that was one of the reasons I’d carried on doing these stupid dickhead things.
Try as hard as I might, I couldn’t avoid the thought that maybe this time would be different.
3
I could hear muffled speech in the corridor. I lifted the gaffer tape as far as I could away from my ears. Heated or just frustrated, I couldn’t tell which, but there were certainly a few ‘Goddams’ and ‘No way, their asses are ours’ being bandied around out there. It sounded like something bad was happening for them, but of course that didn’t necessarily mean something good was happening for us.
That cell in Tbilisi suddenly seemed very close again.
Boots and tyres crunched across the gravel.
I hated times like this, not knowing what the fuck was happening. Maybe the police were already here, working on Charlie first? He might not be in great shape these days, but they wouldn’t get much out of him.
They’d probably tell me the old fucker had confessed everything, but I knew the last thing Charlie would do was give them any ammunition. His hands might swing into disco mode and his memory might let him down, but some things are so deeply ingrained they’re second nature.
I spent a moment or two wondering where the silly old fool was. If I got out, did I run around and try and find him? Without a doubt. Even bollock-naked and with my hands taped to my head, I’d still try and break down every door along the corridor until I found him. Then all we’d need were two sets of clothes, our passports and some kind of transport out of here, and Bob’s your uncle.
Back in the real world, I did my best to uncurl myself and stretch my back and legs, trying to relieve the pain in my muscles and the pressure points against the lino.
It started to get cold, so I reversed the process. They’d probably adjusted the air conditioning, to soften me up before they came and read me my horoscope.
Half an hour or so later, I had to stretch out on the floor again, every bone in my body aching. Which god had I pissed off so mightily this time? What wrong turning had led me here, my arse leaking KY jelly, my head mummified with gaffer tape, just when things had started looking up?
Deep down, I’d always known that I’d fuck up big-time one day, but it had never bothered me much.
Until Kelly came along.
Funny how a snot-nosed kid with a moth-eaten teddy bear can make you pay attention.
I was never the knight in shining armour she deserved, and nothing I did would stop me blaming myself for failing to save her life, but even now I was back in my old familiar world I realized normal service hadn’t quite resumed.
I knew I was always destined to be smack at the bottom of the food chain, and I’d almost got to like it. But Kelly made me dare to think for a moment that there might be something better around the corner.
And now Silky was doing it all over again. She’d become my gatekeeper, my interpreter in a world that spoke a language I barely understood.
What was she doing right now? What was she wearing? What kind of stuff would we do together when I got back? I would take her tandem jumping again for sure, maybe train her to freefall.
I couldn’t believe how much I missed her. For the first time in as long as I could remember, the sum total of
