When I came to, the handcuffs were unlocked. I got up and made my way to a phone. I was grateful to hear a dial tone. I took out a card and dialed the number on it.

“Extension 4252,” I heard the familiar voice of Rodgers say.

“It’s Talman. I just met with Michael.”

“Where are you?” he said. I gave him the address and sat down again.

“Is he still there?” Rodgers asked.

“I haven’t checked, but I doubt it. He gave me some kind of drug and I passed out.”

“I’m sending help. Stay where you are and I’ll be there soon.”

“Not a problem.” I said as I hung up.

I felt vaguely nauseous as an aftereffect of the drugs. But even so I could think a few thoughts clearly. Michael didn’t want me dead. If he did, then a bullet through the brain would have been simple enough. But why? More rabbit work? Who was I supposed to distract now?

Sirens blaring two hummers full of MP’s arrived in the parking lot. Again, I had my hands raised, flashlights in my face and pistols pointed at me as they “secured the area.” And me.