A sharp rapping on the door, I look up, raise my eyebrow. At this time of night? This probably isn’t good.

I set my evening meal down on the side and slowly raise up from my comfortable armchair. My joints aren’t what they were. My ankles pop as I take the first step on the trek to the front door, visible yet somehow still seems so far away.

As I get to the door I slowly open the latch and open the door just a crack. On the other side are two broad surly looking men. They mean business. They glare at me through the crack, silent, waiting expectantly for me to open the door then. To them there’s really no choice for me, the door is going to open and they’re going to do whatever it is they’re here for.

I pull the door open wide, resignation sitting heavily within the pit of my stomach. No point in doing anything else. The men look me up and down, apparently not that impressed with what they see. Blank expressions changing not a minutia from the moment before. I set my shoulders, stand up straight as best as I can.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

The men continue to stare, one moves his hand to the hilt of the sword at his waist. Finally, after what seems like eons one deigns to speak.

“We’d like to talk to you. Do you know Conner McCree?” I nod in assent, this isn’t good. I haven’t seen Conner in months, he’s a good guy but he only ever brings trouble with him. The man continues.

“He told us you were with him last night at the old golden badger, until past midnight. Can you confirm this?”

He rests his hand on the doorframe, a simple action but somehow intimidating. I nod again, though it feels like they can see right through me. I was home all night last night and at least one of my neighbours could attest to that, were they asked.

“There was a robbery you see, someone broker into a jewellers. Conner was caught with some of the goods, but swears he bought them today and knew nothing of the robbery. You know anything about that?”

I shake my head, panic setting in, why has he chosen me of all people to be his alibi. The man crosses his arms, unimpressed. His eyes wander over my shoulder, to the rack of locksmiths tools on the bench near the door.

“Interesting set of tools you got there. Convenient you’d have those to hand the morning after a jewellers was broken into huh”

No no, this is not good at all.

“We’ll I’m a locksmith” I stammer, my terror making me feel guilty, when I didn’t even do anything.

“Likely” he replies, his foot stepping inside the doorway, preventing me from shutting the door. “I think the boss is going to want to have a chat with you old man” and with that the men shoulder into my house. I try in vain to struggle, but it’s pointless. They bend my arms behind my back and Ford March me out into the street. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as they lead me to the back of a cages wagon, easily lifting me up inside. The cage slows locked behind me and I’ve no option but to sit down on the dirty floor and stare as the wagon starts to trundle down the street.

What had I got myself into and how was I going to come back from this. I had no idea.