They’d given him a prison jumpsuit again, one piece washed out grey, and the bag went back on his head. Now his hands were cuffed with heavier transport irons, as was his legs. His balls ached. He guessed, as they moved him, that he went up an elevator out of the jail, with a guard holding each of his arms.
The car they fed him into sat low, with large comfortable leather seats, suggesting the long body and comforts of a limousine. He could hear Annette talking to the guard on either side of him as they handed him into the car. Once inside another male arm clamped onto one of his. He guessed it was a man servant or a bodyguard by the gloves on his hands. The car door slammed shut.