Oscar quickly produced his telephone. He was grimly unsurprised to see it fail to register a signal. But there was enough feeble glow from the dial face for him to painstakingly scope out his surroundings. He brought the faint glow of the phone to her face. She was out cold—and for good measure, they’d glued a membrane strip of adhesive over her mouth. Her hands were cuffed with thin plastic police straps. There was, of course, nothing wrong with her ankle.