The pond was idyllic. Rays of late morning sun played across its mirrored surface as iridescent dragonflies darted about their business. She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. They’d spent an age now trying to attach weights to her ankles. It was a woefully poor job and she was tempted to offer some pointers, but it would be a little difficult with the gag.
“Sp .. Spawn of satan,” Jones stuttered.
Here we go she thought. About bloody time. The bindings on her wrists were starting to ache. Shame they hadn’t got the same fool to do her ankles, at least he knew how to tie a knot.
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