Josh Hook arrived, and Herbie introduced him to Stone.

“I’ve heard about you from Mike Freeman,” Hook said.

“Mike is a good man,” Stone replied. “You’ll enjoy working with him.”

“He says the same about you,” Hook replied.

Stone took his leave.

“So,” Josh said, settling into a chair, “what have you been up to, Herb?”

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me,” Herbie said.

DINK SAT on his bed and looked around his new quarters. It was a room of about nine by twelve, furnished with a bed and a chair. There was a small bathroom with a shower, but no closet and no chest of drawers. They were unnecessary, since its occupants had no clothes. There was no TV, either, and the overhead light was controlled by the staff.

Dink had recovered from the shock of what Herb Fisher had said to him, and now he was angry. He got up and walked around the room, looking for something of interest. There was nothing. Well above his head was a single window, of about one by two feet, covered with a heavy wire mesh that let little sunlight through.

He sat back down on the bed, since the single chair looked very uncomfortable. He reflected on what he had going for him, and it wasn’t much. He knew he was not going to be beaten up or raped, and that was a start. He took a few deep breaths and tried to relax.

He had more assets on the outside, of course, but at the moment, he had no access to that world. There were clothes out there and money, and he was going to need those things.

The door opened and the two men who had escorted him to the room stepped inside.

“Medication time,” one of them said, holding up a small paper cup and a cup of water.

“What kind of medication?” Dink asked.

“Just something to relax you,” the man said.

“I’m perfectly relaxed,” Dink said. “Please tell the doctor I don’t need to be medicated. Tell him I’ll be cooperative.”

“I’ll be sure and mention that to him,” the man said, “but right now, you have to take your medication.”

“I really don’t—”

“You want us to help you get it down?” the man said. Apparently, the other one never spoke.

“All right,” Dink said, “I’ll take it.”

“That’s a good boy,” the man said, handing him both cups.

Dink looked at the large pill inside. He swallowed it, and chased it with the water.

“Good boy!” the man said. “Everything’s going to be fine now. The doctor will be here in a few minutes.” They left.

Dink immediately put to work a skill that had served him well in the past. He went into the bathroom, stuck a finger down his throat, and vomited the pill into the toilet.

“Fuck you all,” he said aloud, then he went and sat down on the bed again.

The door opened, and a middle-aged man in a white coat carrying a clipboard came into the room. “Good afternoon,” he said, “I’m Dr. Morton.”