His and whoever it was pushing him along. No use resisting. He had a black bag over his head and his hands were bound at his back with nylon cables, so the one guard pushing him had the power of fifty. At the end of the hall the guard pulled at Harper’s shoulder. “Arrêtez ici.” Harper stopped, heard a door slide open . . . whoosh. The guard pushed Harper ahead two steps and told him to stand still; the door closed. Five beeps, then the sound of a second door sliding open in front of him. The guard pushed Harper ahead and told him to stand still again. Same drill two more times till he was guided into what smelled like a room of polished wood and pipe tobacco. An office or a study. And whoever occupied it was locked up behind four hermetically sealed doors. Harper felt himself led across a wooden floor, then onto a carpet. The guard ordered him to sit. Luckily, there was a chair waiting for him. The guard cut the cables from Harper’s hands, pulled the bag from Harper’s head.
