Code of Silence - Chapter 23

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There was pressure on his forehead. Pressure on his knees. Rocking forward slightly and then back again. Balanced on his shoulder and his side, wrists and ankles bound, unable to steady himself. Theo couldn't see a thing but he could remember being met in the corridor of the science building by the big Russian. He remembered the man approaching, not in a threatening manner, saying something about news of his father. He'd been confused by this, allowing the man to come up close. Then, with a force that almost lifted him off his feet, the Russian had bundled him through the fire exit door to his left. A futile struggle, an overpowering acrid smell that made his eyes sting. Pressure over his nose and mouth.

And now pitch darkness and an engine noise, discomfort and a raging thirst. Movement, lots of movement. His heart was racing, his breathing fast as he regained his bearings. He could only breathe through his nose. His mouth was taped. Trying to remember what had happened helped calm him a little. His breathing became slower, steadier. The car now travelling more smoothly and in a straight direction. He knew he was in serious danger and needed to figure out how he had got here. He fumbled in his pockets as best he could, searching for two things he needed to know were safe. Neither were there. His phone had been with him when he went to look for the cleaner, and now it wasn't. He realised the SED was in his jacket. Probably a lot safer and much easier to locate than he was going to be.

Theo wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious for. He couldn't gauge the time he'd been awake for either, but it wasn't long. He guessed that he was in the boot of a car, and at least for now he was still alive. He knew the man in the corridor that had kidnapped him was Dragovich. The same guy his mother had met at their front door. He hadn't seen him since the brief chat they'd had in the car outside the university. But the thing that scared him the most was the realisation that this sort of action had to be the work of a criminal organisation. A legal representative of a legitimate Russian company that had bought his father's business wouldn't be behaving like this. Had his father had been abducted under similar circumstances? What had he done, did he struggle? Was he drugged? Was he even still alive?

There was more wallowing by the car as it seemed to lose its straight and smooth direction, changing to a more winding and pitted route. Eventually it slowed and took a sharp right turn. This time it was definitely a country road. Theo's fear multiplied: he was being taken to the middle of nowhere, somewhere remote, a place that he wouldn't return from. The car turned again and gravel crunched underneath the tyres as it slowed and then stopped. The engine cut out. There was a muffled voice from inside the car.

The language being spoken was Russian, or at least so he thought. He didn't understand any of it. He could only hear one voice though. They must be on a phone. Footsteps and a thud as a car door closed. More footsteps, crunching and approaching, getting louder. He braced himself as he heard the latch being operated and the boot lid opened. The fresh cold air hit his neck and face in a rush, but the darkness remained, the blindfold tight on his eyes. He flinched as strong hands grabbed his legs, and something sliced the bindings around his ankles. He was hauled upright from underneath his arms. "Stand up, I will guide you," came the firm instruction in a thick Russian accent. Theo clambered over the rim of the boot, his legs unsteady.

He held his head still, there was no point in trying to talk or searching for clues. He heard himself mumble something which sounded like a frightened whimper. "Be quiet and walk with me," came the reply. He felt a firm and forceful grip on his left upper arm, which guided him forward. He just had to make the steps. He heard a door open and was told to lift his feet over a threshold, his shoulder colliding solidly with the door frame and then throbbing.

He was guided into a room to the left, at the front of the building, he thought. The door shut behind him with a sharp crack. "There is a chair here, sit down," came the next instruction. Theo was guided to the chair and sat. "Keep both your hands and arms still." The ties securing his wrists were released and one arm was attached to a radiator pipe on his left. The warmth did little to melt the chill in his bones. Clumsy fingers removed the tape roughly from his mouth. "Here, your other hand." He could feel a small plastic bottle being given to him and grasped it. Then the door opened and closed, and there was silence.

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