Free INCEPTIO (Roma Nova) by Alison Morton Page B

which opened outwards. He shoved me in and slammed the door shut. In the cell was a mattress, a bucket in the corner and a small barred window high up. Dirty white tiles, some missing, lined the cold cell.
    Where the hell was I? Who were these frightening people? Was Conrad still alive?
    ‘Let me out. Let me out of here!’ I banged on the door with my shackled fists. Silence. I banged again, but nothing. I caught the outer edge of my hand on a raised stud. I stared at the blood welling from the broken skin. My teeth started to chatter. I was so tired. My nerves were beyond shredded. I lay down on the mattress and cried myself to sleep.
     
    The loud clanking of the door woke me. I shivered with cold. I was so stiff I could hardly move. I wiped over my eyes with my palms, hoping that, when I opened them again, it would all be gone. It didn’t work. A different watcher came in and pulled me to my feet. I guessed it was time for the ‘further talk’. What were they going to do to me? I knew one thing. If – no – when I got out of here, I was never going to let myself be this vulnerable again. Ever. Whatever it took.
    The watcher pushed me into the same room as before. But this time Mr Frameless was standing away from the table. Another man, medium height, fair hair, a square, pleasant face showing a solemn expression, stood by the table, his briefcase resting on its top, a bunch of papers in his hand.
    ‘Good evening, Miss Brown. Steven Smith, attorney at law. I’ve been retained to handle your affairs. You’re to be freed this instant.’
    I stared at him.
    ‘Furthermore, a restraint notice is being served on the ESD on your behalf. Proceedings for compensation will be filed at the local courthouse tomorrow morning.’ He handed the documents to Mr Frameless. ‘Remove the handcuffs, please.’
    Mr Frameless looked seriously pissed. Frustrated of his prey. Would he go for the lawyer? Nobody moved.
    ‘Now,’ said Steven Smith.
    A heavy minute passed. Frameless signalled the watcher and my wrists were free. My shoulders fell back, and the binding ache in them eased. Steven Smith turned to Mr Frameless and said in the same deadpan voice, ‘Thank you for your cooperation. Open the door, please.’
    Mr Frameless turned to me, breaking the unlit cigarette between his fingers. ‘Your round, Miss Brown.’
    Like it was some suburban tennis match.
    ‘But do not be under any illusion we have finished.’
     

XVII
    Steven Smith guided me out to the unlit concrete yard where a sedan and two dark-coloured SUVs were waiting, the dazzling white headlight beams focused on the compound entrance. He opened the back door of the sedan and Conrad pulled me in. He was alive. Alive. He said nothing as we drove along, but his arms were stiff and tense around me.
    At my apartment building, two people spilled out of the front SUV, one of them punching in my access code. Steven Smith followed, briefcase still in hand. Upstairs, another two were guarding my door. Inside the apartment, Conrad sat me down on the couch and gripped my hands.
    ‘It’s all right, you’re safe. We’ll never let those people touch you again.’ He looked murderous as he scrutinised my bruised face.
    ‘God, Conrad, they were terrifying.’
    ‘Let’s get you cleaned up.’
    ‘Yes, but first…’ I turned to Steven Smith. ‘I don’t know who you are, but thank you.’
    ‘My pleasure, Miss Brown. I’ll call tomorrow at eleven to discuss our next step. I bid you good night.’
    I let Conrad lead me into the bathroom where he ran the shower. I peeled my sweaty, dirty clothes off and stepped into the warm flow which cleaned my skin and hair but not my hurt or anger. Afterward, Conrad applied arnica cream to my red wrists and bruised face. My neck hurt like hell.
    ‘Your face isn’t cut so it should heal without a mark,’ he said.
    Pain jagged through me as I nodded. ‘What about you? Are you okay?’
    He shrugged. ‘They didn’t detain me this time.