Mike Dixon

David remained silent.
„You know who I‟m taking about?‟
David nodded.
„She wants us to help you … take you out of here.‟
David eyed him coldly. „What password did she give?‟
„Password? She didn‟t give no password.‟
There was nothing wrong with the reply but the words
continued to say one thing while the body language said another.
David‟s fingers tightened on the welding hammer and
he changed his stance slightly, ready to take defensive action.
The response was immediate.
„Drop it!‟
The second man leapt forward and leveled a gun at his
stomach.
„Listen, kid! We can shoot you here or you can come with
us … you decide.‟
He turned to the other man.
„Keep an eye on that silly old bugger in the bar. If he looks
like he‟s going to give trouble, blow his fucking brains out.‟
They pushed David into the van and handcuffed him to a
seatbelt anchor point. There were scratches below it and
some looked recent. David swung his arm and the handcuff
followed the scratches. It was a chilling observation. He wondered
who else had been imprisoned there and what had
happened to them.
The first man drove. David expected him to go out into
the road. Instead he made for the track leading to the tip
where Ted disposed of the pub‟s garbage. It was poised on
the edge of a gully that led down to a creek far below.
The man with the gun lent over the back of his seat.
„We know who you are, kid, but we‟ve not introduced our-
selves.‟
232