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They cowered in the gloom, disoriented and fearful.

Ever since they had been herded back into the battered van, the unnerved workers had been utterly in the dark, confused as to why the driver was going so fast, why they were being thrown around so violently.

It made no sense to them – they’d undertaken this journey numerous times and it was usually as uneventful as it was soul-crushing.

So why was their minder driving like a madman today?

Viyan thought she knew the answer, but kept her counsel, not wishing to provoke the anger of her fellow passengers.

What she’d done had been reckless, foolhardy, and might yet rebound on her badly.

But she didn’t regret it, she knew that she might never get a better chance to liberate herself and was glad she’d seized the opportunity.

Indeed, at one point, her hopes had soared as she thought she made out the faint sound of police sirens in the distance, but then that sweet sound had receded and with it, Viyan’s chance of freedom.

Had the woman given chase? Pursued them somehow?

She’d been wearing biking leathers in the money transfer shop and could easily have kept pace with the rusty van if she’d managed to get to her bike.

For Viyan, this could be the only explanation for their captors’ desperate, erratic driving.

Though the others moaned and wailed as they were thrown from side to side like galley slaves on a raging sea, Viyan loved it, praying for things to get worse still.

If the van crashed, then surely they would be found, rescued, liberated?

Obviously such an outcome would be risky, with injuries, even death, a possibility, but were they not slowly dying anyway?

To Viyan’s dismay, however, after the sound of the sirens faded, their journey resumed in a more sedate manner.

She was still not sure where they were, their route unfamiliar, the turns unexpected, the sound of the road underneath strange and confusing.

As the minutes passed, however, she realized that they were once more tracing a well-trodden route, leaving the roaring traffic and blaring horns behind to head out into the countryside.

Before long they were bumping along rough dirt tracks and shortly afterwards she heard the driver calling out to one of his fellow minders, ordering him curtly to open the main gates as he dropped his speed to a crawl.

Viyan’s heart was in her boots, her hopes crushed.

Had they simply lost their pursuer? Or had something bad happened to her?

Had she crashed? Viyan prayed silently for her deliverance, prayed that the woman’s resolve would remain, perhaps even strengthen.

Whatever suspicions the mysterious woman in the money exchange entertained have only have been strengthened by the pursuit.

Had she noted the registration plate of the van?

Viyan desperately hoped she had, as a hastily scribbled two-word note would hardly count as evidence.

Please God she wouldn’t abandon her quest now – in Viyan’s mind this benevolent stranger was her only hope.

The van lurched to a halt, throwing the rattled occupants into each other once again.

Moments later, the back doors flew open, blinding them all and provoking a chorus of groans.

Viyan kept her eyes to the floor, hoping to blend in with the crowd as they exited the van, but immediately her hopes were dashed, the driver’s booming voice filling the metal void.

‘You, out.’

She kept her eyes to the floor, determined not to react.

‘I said move it.’

Her irate minder had climbed into the van and now feel upon her.

Viyan’s body was rigid, primed to resist, but in truth she stood no chance.

A meaty hand gripped her left arm and she was hauled from her seat, striking her head on the low ceiling.

This provoked no sympathy from anyone present, her attacker gripping her by the hair as he led her from the van, tossing her onto the rough ground outside.

Quickly, Viyan scrabbled to her feet, ignoring the dust that ballooned into her ears, her eyes, her nose, but he was quickly upon her, grabbing her by the hair once more and pulling her face to his.

‘What did you give her?’

‘What do you mean? I did nothing,’ Viyan protested.

‘Bullshit,’ her interrogator shot back. ‘You slipped that woman something. What was it?’

‘What woman? What are you talking about?’

Without warning, her attacker pulled his gun from his belt, slamming the butt into her cheek. Instantly, Viyan’s knees gave out, but she remained upright, held in position by his fist, as he continued to beat her.

‘Get off me, you pig. You’re hurting me,’ she screamed.

‘I’ll do more than that, you little slut, unless you tell me what you gave her.’

‘I don’t know anything about any woman. I wanted to send money home, that’s all.’

‘Have it your way,’ he replied, suddenly releasing his grip on her.

Surprised, Viyan righted herself, confused as to why her attacker had given up so easily. But her relief was short-lived, the thug grabbing her by the collar and marching her swiftly towards the farmhouse. As they stumbled towards the shabby building, his plan became clear, her captor adding:

‘Let’s see if she can loosen your tongue.’