24
24England, United Kingdom, 4 July 2004
Harlan Cole awoke, disoriented and nauseous. He turned on his side. Hard flooring beneath. He sat slowly, taking in his surroundings. A n***d bulb hanging from the ceiling illuminated the four stark walls of… a holding cell.
Stiffness in his neck. His fingers probed, and he discovered a wad of cotton dressing, secured by a cross of sticky tape. Inquisitive fingers peeled away the tape, allowing him to lift the dressing like a flap. Underneath, a tiny puckered wound.
Whoever had freed him had known to extract the sub-dermal tracker implanted in his neck. Wryly, he wondered where the tracker had led the MET CO15 counter-terrorist team. And more important: Who rescued me? Where am I? How long was I out?
Who rescued me? Where am I? How long was I
