Chapter 34
Aleksey Nabokov rolled his shoulders, flexed his constrained arms, and twisted his wrists as much as the binds would allow. Doing so, every few minutes, warded off his fears of developing a blood clot. He exercised his legs, which were permitted the freedom of foot-long steps with a fitted cord, by lying on his back and rolling his hips upward to bend and stretch.
The carpeted floor was not the only comfort in the tiny bedroom. If the ruse was to provide coziness, then deprive him of it for emotional torment, his captors had not yet played that psychological game on him. Aleksey contemplated why he was not in a garage, basement, or windowless closet. The room—likely originally designed by the architect to be a nursery, yoga room, or reading room—had a twin size bed with a
