You’re running out of time. There’s the nerve cluster, inside thigh, that you can squeeze to jolt your nervous system. Your hands, however, feel like wet baseball mitts.

“The word,” she whispers again, brushing the hair from your face.

“The word,” you mutter, pretending to anxiously scratch your legs. “The code key you need…”

She nods, growing visibly impatient. “So we can decipher the transmissions you’ve been sending us.”

Through the haze, your mind turns over. She incorrectly thinks you are the informant, a sign that your deception worked.

“Ascot,” you slur, pretending to drift away. You find a spot.

She slaps you sharply across the cheek. “Wrong word,” she says curtly. “Stop fidgeting.”

You pinch and feel a tingle, but can’t tell if it’s the right one -

As she reaches over you to pick up a scalpel, you heave upright and crush the bridge of her nose with your forehead. Her shock gives you enough time to pull one of the restraints from the table and wrap it around her throat.