So he was technically on the mend, but not so much that the chintzy ankle restraint didn’t look both a mile away and a little like Fort Knox. He scanned the medical cart next to him, but there was nothing sharp enough to cut with or small enough to turn into a pick. And even if there had been, what then? The only escape he could realistically envision involved him shuffling along, dragging an IV cart behind him. Any obstacle more formidable than an unarmed Girl Scout or, God forbid, a set of stairs would be completely insurmountable.

He reached out and carefully retrieved the cup next to his bed, sucking thoughtfully on the straw. No matter how many angles he examined the problem from, he always came to the same conclusion: he was completely, irretrievably screwed. Whoever the man was who had locked him to this bed and called in the medical team hadn’t done it out of the goodness of his heart. He wanted answers and he’d do whatever was necessary to get them.

There was a creak outside that Smith had determined was a loose floorboard ten feet or so down the hallway. He counted to three and right on cue the sound of a key turning in the door disturbed the monotonous beeping of the machine monitoring his heart. Another one-count and it began to swing open.

The unusually tall Asian woman who entered had an athletic grace that in another place and time he would have stopped to admire. A simple brown dress clung loosely to her curves, and a broad-brimmed hat completely shadowed her face. She set a small satchel on the medical cart but didn’t immediately come any closer.

Smith tried to tell himself she was a nurse, but she had a predatory way of moving that suggested something very different. This wasn’t a woman who cared for the sick and helpless. This was a woman who extracted information from the sick and helpless.

He looked away, staring up at the perfect white of the ceiling. He’d never been interrogated by a woman before and that worried him. Since he’d regained consciousness, he’d been preparing himself for a clumsy Japanese guy with a lot of tattoos and a rubber hose. In the shape he was in, he figured he wouldn’t have to hold out long. Death would quickly intervene on his behalf.

This woman was almost certainly a very different animal. She’d be aware of his injuries, inflicting pain carefully and only when necessary. She’d confuse him, drug him, try to make him psychologically dependent on her. And she’d keep him alive for as long as it took.