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"Any difficulties with the collection?" Connie says.

"No. The people there were perfectly cooperative. They were quite happy with the paper work.."

Connie nods and goes, leaving me with the two men. One of them helps me to straighten up, warning me to keep quiet. I try to ask them why I've been brought here, what is to happen to me. They ignore my questions, telling me to shut up if I don't want my mouth strapped shut again. I take their advice.

They hustle me away to a shower block and then to see a medic who looks me over, dabs my cuts and grazes with antiseptic and then declares me fit. She gives me a sort of orange robe, a bit like a hospital theatre gown. It has a badge saying "Detainee". I put it on feeling strange, it's the first clothing I've worn for a long time. It all feels a bit like when I first arrived at the Inward Bound Centre, but this time it's all more brutal, more matter-of-fact, like I'm on some sort of production line!

I'm taken back to see Connie again, this time in her office. As I'm brought by one of the heavies in suits there's another girl – her secretary, I guess - giving her a folder. It looks like some I've seen in the offices at Inward Bound. Connie doesn't look at me, she just goes on studying the folder.

"Well," she says, "this is interesting. It's not often I get to deal with someone that has actually signed up for slavery." She looks up. "That presents us with an opportunity. Sometimes, it can be a bit of a problem what we do when we've finished these interrogation sessions. There's too much focus on some of the Agency's detention facilities now. I'm going to need some advice. Depending on what comes out of these discussions, maybe when we've finish we can just extend this contract," she pulls out a copy of the form that I signed when applying for the Inward Bound course, "or maybe we can sell you on somewhere. Save us all the embarrassment? Unless, of course, we have got this completely wrong and you can – well – go back."

I'm confused. My emotions are swinging between abject terror and blinding anger. Who are these people and why do they think that the Inward Bound agreement gives them any rights over me? I think back to when I first got to Inward Bound, and Anna joking suggested that they should sell me. Surely, they didn't mean that sort of thing seriously goes on?

"Excuse me, but what right has anyone from the United States to come and arrest me and start threatening me with prosecution?" I say.

"I think we'll do me asking the questions," Connie responds. "But to put your mind at rest, I'll tell you just exactly how. First, thanks to your Extradition Act 2003, our people merely have to make an extradition request and off you go. No court hearing in the UK needed anymore. Second, as one of the people from our Department of Justice pointed out to some people from your Court of Appeal, if a suspect is apprehended abroad and returned Stateside, you go straight to jail pending trial and your kidnap in the UK cuts no ice with our Judiciary. You're a suspect and my colleagues and I are intending see you safe behind bars as soon as possible. OK?"

Connie's explanation of the state of the world leaves me gasping at the arrogance of it and terrified at the extent of my predicament. She nods at my escort. He grips me by the arm and forces me to the floor until I'm lying sprawled flat out in front of Connie's desk. He grabs the back of my head and pushes it around until my face is pressed against the wooden floor. He spreads my arms out so that my hands are in front of my head, palms down. He kicks my ankles apart, spreading my legs. "Thanks," says Connie. "That'll do for now."

I hear the suit leave, shutting the door behind him and then I hear Connie's chair scrape on the floor as she pushes it back.