Changing Fortunes
It was pitch-black.
John could feel the barrel of a gun pressed to the side of his head.
“Are you going to talk?” an angry voice demanded, jarring the metal cylinder uncomfortably as he spoke.
Trembling, John managed to squeeze out the two syllables of 'OK'.
He could feel the black hood that had been covering his head being lifted.
Suddenly the light blinded him, “Where is this place?”
As John's eyes adjusted to the glare from the bare bulb directly above him, the middle aged man, dressed in black, like the guy from the 'Milk Tray' advert, moved around in front of him, with the gun still pointed menacingly at John, as he sat on the rickety wooden chair in the middle of the room, staring straight ahead at the 'hospital white' wall.
“You don't need to know that,” growled the man, “Now tell us what you do know!”
John could see that he was in a small room with bare walls. Two other men dressed in the same black outfits were also in the room. Each was leaning against a wall; one to John's right and one to his left. 'The door must be behind me,' thought John.
After a slow intake of breath, John leapt up out of the chair, kicking the gun from the Milk Tray man's hand so that it went clattering across the cold floor. Turning around to escape, John was stunned to find another bare, white wall. “The door?” he exclaimed.
Just then the other two men raised their arms in unison to reveal that they had been holding guns by their sides. John had had one weapon pointed at him a moment ago, now he had two - one on either side – things had got worse by a degree of 100%.
“I honestly don't know what you're after,” he spluttered in desperation.
“We want to know what you did with all the money,” replied the disarmed man.
John looked down at the expensive Swiss watch on his right wrist. 'What's that doing there?' he thought.
He looked up; “What money?”
“We know about your past,” replied the interrogator, “You were a millionaire. Nobody just loses a million pounds.”
“I've no idea what you're talking about,” spluttered John.
“Then you are no longer any use to us,” came the reply, “Fire!”
“Noooo!” shouted John, but it was too late. There was a huge bang and he fell to the floor an instant later.
Game over.