McGee waited alone in the dark and cold wondering if there was something he should be doing about now.

'WWTD?'

Maybe Tony would try to escape. He tested the ropes again: too strong. He felt the chair: too strong. Then he noticed the sharp edges on the wrought ironwork. Frantically, he started rubbing the ropes around his wrists on a particularly pointy piece. The pain on his wrist was excruciating causing him to whimper occasionally. The rope around his neck was intimately connected to the rope around his wrists so if he took the pressure off his wrists for any length of time, he started to choke.

'WWTD?'

It occurred to him that maybe he was being too tough on himself. Maybe Tony would cry like a baby. Still he scraped.

It seemed to takes hours until he felt the strands of the rope giving way. His upper arm muscles were cramping and his shoulders and back were radiating pain. Somehow he had expected that the moment he broke through one strand, the rest of the rope would just magically dissolve at once and he was frustrated to find he had to keep on scraping at each individual strand.

Finally, the ropes loosened enough that he could wriggle his aching hands free. He paused for a moment, shaking them to let some blood flow into his fingers again and then he tackled the neck rope and his blindfold. Although not exactly afraid of the dark, he felt much more confident when he could see all the present dangers. He fumbled desperately with the blindfold knot. His exhilaration as he managed to wrench the blindfold off was replaced by frustration that there was no light in the room. He bent over his naked legs to loosen the ropes on his ankles.

Once free he moved gingerly. Nothing seemed broken but everything hurt in someway; though there was a pain in the ribs down his right hand side which he suspected indicated a break or two. He wondered if someone had been beating him or if this was just the result of being thrown in a car boot and tossed around for hours. The one thing that bothered him was the pain in his wrists and the rather limited movement and sensation he had in his fingers.

His senses heightened, he felt his way around the room with slightly numb fingertips. The door was locked, no surprises there. A few tentative bashes with his foot told him it wasn't coming off its hinges any time soon. Feeling his way around the walls, he came across some raised boards. He paused and pondered on them. Someone had boarded up a window. He felt for the edge and squeezed his fingers in any gap he could find. Then he pulled with all his might. Something shifted. Not enough to do anything useful but enough to give him hope. He tried again. And again. It was the rope thing all over again.

Finally the rusty nails gave up their grip and the boards came away with an almighty rush which left him sitting abruptly on the ground. The shock caused a stab of pain through his ribs, confirming his suspicions. It was still dark. He felt for the region again and he could feel the cold glass. He peered outside. It was totally dark. Not even a moon.

He took one of the boards and rammed it into the window until it shattered. Clearing out the ragged edges, he heaved his aching body through the opening and felt for ground. Thankfully, it was a ground floor room. He shuddered to think how he would have coped if he'd found himself hanging out a ten-storey window.

Now he was out, he was actually starting to enjoy himself. It was just like a spy novel, or some Arnie movie. His eyes were starting to adjust to starlight and he could make out building silluettes. The rows of old wooden structures seemed to run for miles. Logically he knew there must be an end so he headed in one direction with the hope of hitting a fence or something eventually. His logic was right but the fence was high and built to keep people in. What was this place, a stalag?

He moved slowly around the perimeter until he found a gate. As expected it was high, covered in barbed wire and severely padlocked. He heard a car pass and ran for cover. He watched from the protection of a building but saw it pass in the distance. Sound obviously carried here. So no one was likely to pass here by accident. Anyone who came here was planning to kill him. Hmm, how did he change this situation?

'WWTD?'

He sat down to think and found he was on a pile of sharp stones. Almost like flints….his mind whirled: 'wooden buildings, stones that can make fire….that should get someone's attention'.

He took two pieces of stone and approached the side of a building. The weeds that spouted from its base were conveniently dry. It only took a few sparks from the stones and the weeds caught alight. He nurtured the flame until it took a hold of the building and then things started happening very, very fast.

In moments the building seemed to erupt into flames infecting its neighbour in a fiery domino display that he might not have believed if he hadn't seen it. There was a very real risk he was going to be burnt alive before help arrived. He fled to a further part of the area cursing himself: 'Yes, that's exactly was Tony would have done,' he thought. 'Sometimes, Tony's an idiot.'

He was relived when he finally heard the fire engine sirens approaching. They pulled up and snapped though the lock with bolt cutters. As they engines raced inside. He slowly crept back to the open gate and slunk outside.

A sleek black Dodge pulled up along side him and his heart sank. They had found him again. He watched the door open and prepared to meet his fate.