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Pain and sudden shouting dragged me back to awareness. The blurred images
resolved themselves into Pete struggling with the guard, who was naked from
the waist down. Pete was much lighter, but evidently had the advantage of
surprise, because he suddenly pushed the man off balance across the room.
The guard tripped on the edge of the carpet and fell heavily, cracking his
head on the wash basin.

“He’s out for a bit!’ Pete exclaimed, “Come on, for Christ’s sake get
dressed before somebody comes to find out what all the noise is about.’ He
threw me my clothes, and I put them on as best I could. He half-dragged,
half-carried me out to the lorry and heaved me up into the cab. As he got in
he glanced anxiously at the side of my head where the gun had struck me, but
it couldn’t have looked too bad, because he started up and drove quickly
across the border. I was still seeing stars, and felt rather sick. I began
to thank him for coming to help me, but suddenly keeled over on to the
steering wheel. That was the last thing I noticed for a long time.

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“You take off clothes now.’ Another statement. Eyeing his gun, I thought
it better not to disobey. In a few seconds I had stripped, putting all my
clothes on a nearby chair. It was cold. He grinned, or rather leered, at me,
and stepped closer.

“Legs apart, turn round, arms up, hands against wall.’ I did as I was
told, wondering what he was going to do if he suspected me of carrying
drugs. He came nearer and stood behind me, breathing heavily. Then he felt
under my arms, looked at the soles of my feet, and ran his hands up between
my legs. Despite the strange circumstances, I immediately began to feel
randy, though I didn’t like the man at all.

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“We must be getting near the border, mustn’t we?’ I cast about in my dimly
remembered geography lessons for the relationship between the various north
European countries. “Yes, we’ll soon be in Germany, but the German customs
people are very fussy with loads like this. It may take some time at the
border post.’

He was right. He disappeared into the customs office with a sheaf of
documents, including my passport, and left me to my own devices. I couldn’t
leave the border area, of course, so I sat around, stood around, tried to
read all the notices in French and German on the walls, and finally settled
myself as comfortably as possible in a delapidated old armchair in a corner
and fell sound asleep.

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Driving on the right was absolutely terrifying for me as passenger. I
seemed far too close to the vehicles on the other side of the road, and when
we overtook a slower lorry, the oncoming traffic hurtled straight for me.
Pete was a good driver, though, and took no unnecessary risks. After a while
I relaxed and started to notice the strange Flemish town names. My efforts
at pronouncing them made Pete smile, and when I overheard two locals
conversing in a shout outside a bar, my mimicry of them was so accurate that
he nearly drove off the road, laughing so much.

“Come on, pack it in,’ he grinned at me, “you’ll have no voice left if you
go on like that!’ Then, more thoughtfully, he added, “Perhaps this trip
could be fun, after all.’

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Jack was a legend at the depot. He had worked there longer than anyone
could remember, becoming dirtier and dirtier each year, rarely sober, and
with a vicious temper. Most of the lads were terrified of him.

“Don’t get me wrong,’ Pete continued thoughtfully, “Jack’s all right when
you get to know him. He’s had a difficult life. But I certainly wouldn’t
want him on a trip like this. Have you been to Italy before?’

“No, I’ve never been abroad,’ I answered, “I’m looking forward to it.’

“A factory in Italy is just the same as one in England, but it’s good to
be out here away from the cities. Get my jumper for me, Tony, it’s in the
back.’

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Neither of us spoke for a while. Few people were about at this time of the
morning, just an occasional stray dog returning from a night’s foraging in
the city’s dustbins. The road unrolled itself before us, lined with
warehouses and factories, many now derelict. As we crossed the canal and
turned right into the road leading out to the motorway he seemed to relax,
settled down further in his seat, and ran his hand through his short fair
hair.