I'm going to Underwood and Flinch, and Pinch, a novel written and performed for podcast by Mike Bennett.

Episode 44.

This podcast is intended for an adult audience.

Welcome back, listeners. Not so much a lengthy recap this time, just a couple of bullet points.

Underwood has been roasted by electric UV light. Lydia is dead, and Damo's decisive weapon just came thudding back to land on the other

side of the stairwell doors. So, Brace for Impact listeners, this is Underwood and Flinch, episode 44. Oh. Ivan and his men walked down the corridor with their guns trained on the stairwell. Shattered fluorescent light fittings

dangled from the ruin of the suspended ceiling, flashes of raining sparks lighting up the smoke as they advanced. The walls were blackened

and all around was studded and scarred with shrapnel. With his gun raised before him, Ivan pushed open the remains of the blasted

stairwell doors. The three intruders all lay still. He kicked the heel of the guy who had thrown the grenade. He didn't move.

Yvonne smiled and spoke into his walkie-talkie.

Stand on everybody.

We have them. David drifted in and out of consciousness. He was moving, but not on his own two feet. He realized that he was being dragged, one arm held

over the shoulder of one of the guards and his feet trailing beneath him. He tried to walk,

but his feet refused to obey him. Up ahead he could see

Daimo draped over the shoulders of the big Russian. He looked either dead or out cold,

and David remembered that he'd been right behind the door when the grenade had exploded.

Jesus, the grenade! David glanced down the length of his body for signs of damage and was relieved to see that he was still in one piece.

His ears were still ringing from the explosion, but he kept catching snatches of babbling Spanish behind him.

Then he recognized Miguel's voice.

Thank God, at least he was okay.

David listened as best he could to what Miguel was saying, but it didn't make any sense. Over and over he was saying, so I'm Miguel. I'm Miguel. Why would he be introducing himself? This thought followed him echoing like a voice down a well as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

A slap across the face brought him back again.

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