He came to, slumped in a chair.
The chair was bolted to the concrete floor and his ankles were chained to the legs. He was in a dimly lit room that he didn’t recognise. A vague memory came back of being snatched from the street and bundled into a van. Then, the recollection of being questioned by the two unsavoury ruffians for hours on end. He was exhausted. He had no idea what they wanted. Over and over, he had tried to explain that they obviously had the wrong person. This had no effect; they were convinced that he was holding back. When they left for a break, they assured him that there would be no more gentle questioning when they return.
He heard voices and a metallic rattling from somewhere beyond the door. Moments later they came in, pushing a metal trolley covered with what looked like medical instruments. They parked it beside him and stood grinning at him.
He fingered the remote control in his pocket and found the button.
Just before pressing it, he reflected on the true value of time travel…