Brett returned pushing a small cot on wheels. It resembled a stretcher, of the kind you might find in a public clinic, in one of our inner cities. Its...surface was lightly padded and it had, as its only modification, at the head and foot, leather wrist and ankle restraints. Between Brett, Olga and Jane, they lifted the inert and barely conscious girl on to the cot. Brett pulled out a white bottle from the cabinet that was under the cot and poured some of the liquid on Lynette's lacerated. “You see?” she told him. “He won’t be able to pass me up, now will he?”“You’re right enough there, no doubt about it.” Bill gave a rueful shake of his head, lurching up off the settee. “Now show us some mercy.”She laughed. It felt good to laugh; some of the lingering strangeness of the dream seemed to slough away, leaving her lighter. She pulled the curtains shut and went back to her armchair as Bill busied himself with checking the transistor mikes and recorders hidden in their recess behind. More

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