Michael Palmer - Extreme Measures

"Please," Eric said rapidly. "You've got this all wrong. Please listen to me."

The tall man looked to the priest for guidance as to whether he should replace the gag. almost imperceptibly, the death's-head turned once each way. The priest continued grinding.

"L-look," Eric said '., I'm a doctor. She's a student, a college student. We're just trying to learn, not to harm anyone. You must believe that."

The tall man glanced at the priest. Then he faced the two captives and said with unsettling pleasantness, "And learn you shall."

He crouched by his drum, and the pounding began once again, the counterpoint building in loudness and tempo. Candlelight shimmered off the smiling white-and-black death mask as the priest stood, still working the pestle through the powder in the bowl.

"Please!" Eric screamed, trying to be heard over the cresc ndo of the drums it — "Please don't do this!"

He looked over at Anna. The angry scorn in her eyes had now given way to undisguised terror.

"No!" he screamed as the priest approached her.

Eric watched as a gloved hand dipped into the bowl and withdrew a mound of moistened chalky-gray powder. Anna began to squirm in her chair, her eyes widening- Then, as the hand neared her cheek, she began thrashing her head wildly about. The drums intensified until it seemed as if the room were exploding.

"Nooo!" Eric shrieked as the hand laid a broad swatch of powder across one of Anna's cheeks.

"Please, no!"

The moment the coup poudre touched her cheek, the drums abruptly ceased.

Anna stopped moving.

The room was silent and still. It was as if with the brush of the first grain, she had resigned herself to having been Poisoned. Eric wondered if perhaps she knew, as he did, that struggling now would only speed the absorption of the tetrodotoxin. Once again the hand dipped, this time slowly painting Anna's other cheek. The priest turned away, and for the briefest moment, Eric thought he was to be spared. Then, like the rumble of distant thunder, the drums began to build once again, The leering death's-head turned back to him. The gloved hand extended slowly, three fingers coated with powder. Eric snapped his head from one side to the other, screaming at the priest to stop, to understand.

He hurled his chair over backward, then twisted onto his side. And when he could move in no other way, he slammed his head against the floor.

Mindless of his struggling, the priest bent over and swabbed the gritty poison across first one cheek and then the other.

"Please don't do this," Eric moaned again and again as his chair was pulled upright. "Please don't…

The priest knelt and ceremoniously dipped one finger into the pool of blood by Eric's feet.

"There… will… be… no… return… for… you… from … this… trip," the tall man said, punctuating each word with a drumbeat.

The death's-head priest pressed a disk of blood onto the center of Eric's forehead, and then Anna's.

Then, without ever having mid a word, he shuffled from the room.

Totally helpless and drained, Eric tried once again to regain his composure. This time he focused on what he had learned of tetrodotoxin and the ways of reducing or reversing its toxicity. Depending on the dose they absorbed, they still had an hour or two before the effects of the drug began, and as much as a day before they would be helpless. If they could get free, they n-light have a chance.

Get calm, he begged himself. If you ever needed to be alert and focus in, you need to now. If you don't, you're going to die.

He turned to Anna, but before he could speak, a broad band of adhesive tape was pulled tightly across his mouth. Then the cloth that had been used as his gag was pulled over his eyes and tied briefly. For perhaps twenty minutes or half an hour he sat that way. The only sound he heard was Anna's labored breathing. Are we alone? Have we been left to die?

Carefully, he began once again to test the bonds on his arms.

"Don't bother, man," the tall man mid from nearby. "You're out of here now."

With that, Eric's hands were cut free and relied behind his back.

Then his ankle ropes were severed and he was pulled roughly to his feet.

"Nod goodbye to your foxy friend, Mr. Doctor.

We're not too interested in what happens to you anymore- But we've got some high ol' times in store for her. Yes, sir, some high ol'times."

The two men dragged him out the back way, tied his ankles together again, checked to be sure his Pockets were empty, and then shoved him onto the metal floor of a van that smelled as if it had been used for hauling rotten fish. For the next half-hour or more, they drove.

Initially, Eric tried to make some sense of the turns and straightaways, but he quickly gave up.

At last the truck jounced onto what seemed to be a dirt road and stopped, its engine still running. Eric was pulled from the back and thrown to the ground.

The bonds on his ankles were cut, but his gag and blindfold were left on, and his hands left tied behind his back.

"Just stand right there, man. Listen carefully, and don't move.

There's a nice sharp knife lying on the ground about four feet away from you. I won't tell you where. Wait until you can't hear this truck engine no more, and then go for it. could use that knife to cut your throat, Mr. Bigshot Doctor, but we're not to. You know why?

Because, man, we really don't give a shit about you. We've got the one we want.

She's business. You're sport. And whether you make it or you don't, the disbe eyers get the message we want to send." He will Eric heard the two men laughing as they jumped into the van. It sprayed sand and gravel on him as it roared away. Moments later, the night was silent as a tomb. working blind, Eric spent what seemed an eternity finding the small folding knife, and longer still positioning it to saw through the clothesline binding his wrists. During the process he cut himself at least half a dozen times. Finally he shook his arms free. He ripped the blindfold from his eyes and the tape from his mouth, and used them to stem some of the bleeding from his hands and wrists.

He was on a dark, wooded dirt road, with no sign of a house in any direction. The cool early-morning air smelled and tasted like country.

Eric felt himself still on the edge of panic, but he was steadied a bit by the realization that at least he was no longer helpless. If the only drug on his face was tetrodotoxin, someone somewhere had to know of a way to blunt or negate its effect. The key for him now was clear thinking and aggressive action.

He knew that a paved road was not far off, and he was fairly sure of the direction the van had taken. to increase his circulation too much by running, he strode quickly that way. In less than five minutes he was walking down a deserted, two-lane country highway. He sensed that he was north of the city, but it was only a guess.

Through some trees, around a curve in the road, he could make out a dim light and a structure of some sort. He cut across the woods and found himself standing beside a small Mobile station, which was darkened for the night but obviously in current use.

There was no sign on the building that gave even a clue as to where he was. Eric scanned the narrow buildings. He peered in the window, looking for a metal desk, he spied something he needed even more at that moment envelope.

Above the desk, an STP wall clock told him that it was 2:15.

Perhaps two hours had passed since he and Anna were poisoned. He felt desperate to get the death powder off his face.

In the weeds alongside the building he found a brick. As he stood poised before the window, he noticed the thin, metallic strip of a security system. it was just as well, he thought. With any luck he could get at the envelope and summon the police with the same maneuver.