Due Process by Jane Finch Page A

wooden table and one plastic chair. A bottle of water and a few slices of bread and an apple lay on the table. There was nothing else in the room.
                  He sat at the chair and took a long swig of the water and began to nibble at the bread.  He wondered how long he had been out of it. Judging by his hunger, he guessed it to be some time.  He ate two slices of the bread and took a bite from the apple, and tried to gather his thoughts and make some sense of what had happened.  It had to be a case of mistaken identity.  Why on earth would anyone want to kidnap him?
                  He briefly went through his list of clients. True, not all were of savoury character, but to his knowledge there was no-one who was in so much trouble or flying so close to the wind that they needed to abduct their lawyer.
                  Then he thought of Jenny.  She would be alright, Amanda would have been there. Did Amanda see what happened, he wondered?  What must she be thinking?
                  He thought of his lovely wife and the years they had spent together. He remembered the first time they had met. He had been sailing his little boat along the back inlets of the broads, and she had been sitting at the river’s edge on a little stool, fishing rod resting on her knee, and a look of contentment on her face.  Fishing.  What woman went fishing? Didn’t they go shopping and have coffee with friends and go to parties?  Not this woman. She was clearly enjoying the peace and tranquillity of the river, and he knew as soon as he saw her that he had found his kindred spirit.
                  He had steered the boat past her a couple of times, and each time she had to reel in her line so he didn’t snag it in his motor.  The first time she barely acknowledged him.  The second time she looked more annoyed.  As he turned the boat around on the third occasion she placed her rod on the grass, stood up, and confronted him.
                  “Do you have a problem?” she had asked.
                  He cut the motor and drifted in to the river bank beside her.  She threw up her hands in exasperation.
                  “Well, I might as well give up now,” she shouted.
                  He said nothing, just smiled at her.
                  “What?, she asked.  “What are you smiling at? Don’t you realise you have scared all the fish away?”
                  He just waited, and kept smiling.  She glared at him, picked up her rod and began reeling in the line, glancing at him every so often.  He watched silently as she meticulously gathered together her fishing paraphernalia, lifted up her net to reveal two reasonable sized roach, tipped them into the water, and folded the net away. He watched her for about ten minutes, and then just as she was preparing to leave he spoke.
                  “Would you like to come for a ride up river?”
                  She glared at him but said nothing.
                  “I know a great fishing spot.”
                  He saw the flicker of interest in her eyes, and knew she was hooked.
    He smiled as he remembered, but then reality dawned.  Amanda and Jenny were alone, and he wanted to be with them.  At that moment he heard a noise and the sound of a key turning, and the door opened.
     
     
                  Boxer stood at the door scowling.
                  “He’s awake,” he growled, and motioned for Tony to follow him. They walked into another room that had a sofa, a chair, and a fire burning in the grate.  Tony’s eyes immediately went to the window where he saw more bars. There was another door to the left leading, he presumed and desperately hoped, to a bathroom.  Buzzcut lounged on the sofa.
                  “I need to visit the bathroom,” croaked Tony, his voice hoarse