Free but yet…

Lermontov just gestured with the gun, and she moved to the contraption in front of her. The gun was Russian, a Tokarev TT 33. She knew it quite well, and with someone else, she might have taken her chance and go for it. But despite her current dismal situation, she had done her homework. With him, such a move would be suicide.

It looked a bit like a low scaffold, but the neck hole was missing, and the holes for wrists were way too wide. There were belts hanging from the front, and at the bottom a black, steel rod pointed upwards, leaving little to the imagination. She would be 'invaded' once again, for sure.

"Turn around..." His English accent was near perfect, one of the reasons he was one of the most effective agents on the planet: he spoke twelve languages fluently. She stood with her back against the wood, her legs on either side of the steel apparatus at the bottom. He walked around, out of her line of sight.

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