Chapter 7
It lacked an hour to sunrise when I regained consciousness. My eyelashes were gummy and my mouth tasted like something had died in it—I was grateful they hadn’t stuck the gag back in—but while my neck was sore, there was an Elastoplast on it. Christ, what kind of men were those two, to see the cut didn’t become infected?
However, I did have a splitting headache, and my stomach roiled in protest—I always reacted that way to general anaesthesia. I breathed shallowly through my mouth and began testing the bonds that secured me.
They were rank amateurs; they’d left me lying comfortably on my bed. There was even a glass of water with a straw nearby that I could reach easily enough. While they had tied my ankles together, they hadn’t secured them to the cords that fastened my wrists
