Free Wired by Douglas E. Richards Page B

vulnerable when naked, and he was no exception.
    Kira
tossed him a pair of gray sweatpants that matched the sweatshirt he was now
wearing and motioned with her head for him to put them on. He was only too
happy to comply. All in all, while she didn’t seem to like his taste in
clothing, he was encouraged that she was taking the time to see that he was
re-clothed. If her plan was to execute him in the apartment, this wouldn’t have
mattered. On the other hand, Desh remembered Jeffrey Dahmer, and he realized it
was dangerous to make any assumptions about her actions or motives. She could
be dancing to a song that only she could hear.
    When
he finished re-dressing, she tossed him a pair of soft leather slip-on shoes
from her bag, and he managed to get them on his feet. The fit was perfect. And
why not? He had bought several pairs of shoes in the past, online, and she now
had ready access to the e-mail confirmations of these orders.
    She
tossed three plasticuff strips to him, one after another, and he gathered them
up wordlessly. She held up another sign.
    ONE
TIGHT AROUND EACH ANKLE. THE OTHER BETWEEN THEM .
    It
took several minutes, but Desh did as she had ordered. His feet were now cuffed
together in a three-plasticuff chain, leaving about eighteen inches of play
between them.
    Kira
motioned for him to roll onto his stomach and put his arms behind his back,
which he found a way to do despite having to drag Griffin’s arm along for the
ride. She held the gun against his head with one hand and slipped a plasticuff lasso
around his crossed wrists with the other, yanking it so tight that it bit into
his skin.
    With
Desh’s ankles linked and his wrists now firmly secured behind his back, Kira
cut him loose from Griffin using his own knife and retreated rapidly to a safe
distance the moment she had. Desh noted she was quite agile and light-footed.
    Kira
motioned for Desh to get up, which he did awkwardly and with considerable
difficulty. She opened the door, checked the hallway, and directed him to
enter. Only being able to move his feet a slight distance apart, he was forced
to shuffle them in a rapid-fire series of tiny steps. Kira followed about eight
feet behind, her gun tucked beneath her oversized sweater but not wavering from
the target.
    It
was now after ten o’clock and the hallway remained deserted. A rental car was
parked just outside the exit from Griffin’s building; a large Ford sedan. As
Desh shuffled toward the car, Kira pushed a button on the remote and the trunk
popped open. It was completely empty.
    Kira
motioned for Desh to climb inside.
    Frowning
miserably, he bent at the waist and slid into the trunk headfirst, having to
curl up into a ball to fit inside the tight quarters.
    Kira
didn’t waste a moment. The instant he was fully inside, she pushed the trunk
door closed in a single, smooth motion, and Desh was plunged into an
all-enveloping, claustrophobic darkness.

10

 
 
    Kira
Miller drove for about ninety minutes. The air in the trunk was stale to begin
with and got steadily worse as time wore on. While there were long stretches
during which the ride was relatively smooth, probably indicating highway
driving, there were also brief interludes during which Desh was bounced around
violently, jarring him inside and out and inflicting several minor cuts and
bruises. Finally, after what seemed like forever to Desh, the car stopped for
good. A minute later the trunk was popped open again.
    “Get
out,” ordered Kira in hushed tones, shielding Desh as well as she could from
any possible onlookers. She held a stun gun in one hand and her black duffel in
the other, and it was clear she had no intention of helping him.
    “Back
out. Legs first,” she instructed. “Silently. Call attention to yourself and
you’re dead,” she threatened.
    Restrained
as he was, not to mention crowded into close quarters, it took a Herculean
effort to comply, but he was finally able to manage it. They were at a seedy
motel