The detective was right. Once he was out of the law's hands, out of sight of anyone who monitored the law, there would be no way out for him. He'd be ...rogmarched to an unlabeled black vehicle to be whisked off to some hidden location for the rest of his very short life. Because once he told them what little he knew, there would be no reason for them to keep him alive any longer. But if he talked, then everyone would face the same dismal future he did. No, he couldn't reveal anything. That. Rubbing my sore head, I looked around. I seemed to be under a table in the darkened common-room of some sort of dingy inn. Sleeping, snoring and murmuring forms were sprawled around the room, laying on tables and under them. The place reeked of body odor and stale ale. I crawled out from under the table, pulled myself groggily to my feet, then looked around for a few moments. Nothing in the room seemed familiar. My own clothes and even my own body felt strange and foreign to me. Feeling my way. More

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