He backed up to the far end of the room. She didn’t miss that. He was deliberately not blocking the door, trying to not be seen as a threat. “Okay, open mind,” she began. “Obvious question, why collect,” she swept her arm around the room, “all this?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t come to mind immediately, but there’s a real mechanical design challenge here. How do you assert physical control over someone, usually by force, in such a way as to minimize injury while preventing escape? Potential prisoners come in all shapes and degree of hostility. Any solution has to cover a wide spectrum, yet be economical and relatively easy to use, with little or no training. I’m fascinated by the whole idea, and the solutions that have evolved over the years.”
She turned back to the wall display, slowly walking past his exhibits. “All these are the real thing? They actually work? You have the keys?” She needed some time to take in what she was seeing.
“There are some reproductions, when the originals are rare or one-of-a-kind museum pieces. Yes, they are all real, they work reliably, and I have two keys to everything hanging on the wall.”
She stopped in front of one particular item that caught her interest. “Tell me about this one,” she asked, pointing to one of the restraints. “How was it used?” How could the AI site have matched me to a man like this? She turned to look at him, noting how he carefully kept his distance.
He came over to stand next to her. “Those are what’re known as transport chains. When a high risk or violent prisoner had to be moved to another facility the guards will use them to closely restrict hands and feet, to keep the prisoner subdued. They’re still in use today.”
“They look scary.” She turned her head to look up at him. She asked herself silently, should I do it? Taking a deep breath, she plunged into unknown territory. “Show me how they work! Pretend I’m a violent, psychotic criminal. I’ve just been convicted on multiple sensational and particularly grisly murder charges, now you have to take me to prison.”
He stared at her, taken back by her unexpected request. “These aren’t kids’ toys, you know. This is the real deal. That particular model is used by federal marshals and maximum security prisons. They lock on; you can’t get them off without the key. Unless your secret is you moonlight as an escape artist?”
She looked directly at him, eye to eye. “I understand, I trust you. And no, no outside job as a magician. Go ahead; I want to know what it’s like. I’ve never been arrested. I’ve never even seen handcuffs before, except on TV.” She turned her back to him, placing her hands behind her back. “I’m ready. And don’t hold back. Treat me like I’m the real deal too.”
He hesitated, wondering if this was a good idea. He reached up and took the restraints off the pegs. “These can be used with your hands in front…” he began.
“On TV it’s always hands behind the back,” she interrupted him. “Don’t take too long. I’m liable to lose my nerve.” That part was true. It was all she could do to hold still and not start shaking. I can’t be saying this, she thought. It felt like she was driving down a steep, twisty mountain road late at night, through a thick fog.
“Okay, if you insist. First thing, we have to secure your hands.” She heard the clicks when he pushed open the bows on the handcuffs. Taking hold of her left hand he closed the cuff around her wrist, followed by the other cuff around her right wrist. “The keyholes face away from your hands. In theory it’s supposed to make it harder for you to open them if you get hold of a key. I don’t think it really matters, but that’s the procedure.”
She tried to pull her wrists apart. The cuffs held them close together. Then she tried to slip the cuffs over her wrists, like regular bracelets, but they fit too close to go past her hands. “I can’t get them off. You definitely have my attention.” She was still heading down that twisty road, but to make it interesting her brakes had just failed. I’m past the point of no return. Once she was committed all the anxiety seemed to fade away. It might still be a dangerous road, but she wasn’t the driver any longer.
“Doing okay, not too tight?” He checked the fit, slipping a finger between her wrist and the cuff to make sure there was some room. Satisfied, he used the key to double lock them. “That click was the double lock, so they won’t tighten further and cut off circulation.”
With one hand he took hold of her arm and turned her to face him. “This is where the extra security comes into play.” He reached around behind her and took hold of the loose ends of the waist chain. With one end in each hand he pulled it tight against her waist, slipping one end through a ring on the other. “It takes some work but a lot of people can slip their hands down and step through the cuffs if they aren’t secured in place. This waist chain makes it more difficult to escape.” Reaching for a padlock on the wall he clicked it shut on the waist chain in the front, well beyond her now restricted reach. “With the chain on the idea is that your hands will stay in place behind your back, where they are the least likely to cause some mischief.”
She tried to shift her hands left and right, and then up and down. Bending over, she tried to reach out, without success. She tilted her head to look up at him. “You’re right about not having much freedom of movement. What about that other thing hanging on the wall?”
Behind her back, hidden from his sight she ran the fingers of her right hand over the cuff on her left wrist. It had a more substantial feel to it compared to a regular bracelet, heavy and sturdy. If these could subdue a man twice her size there certainly wasn’t any way she could break free.
“The handcuffs keep you from fighting back, but you can still run away. You’d find it awkward running with your hands cuffed behind your back though. It throws off your balance. To make sure you don’t try to escape we have to restrain your legs too.” He turned her around to face the wall again.
She looked up at him over her shoulder. “I suppose that makes sense. Those things,” she nodded toward the leg irons on the wall, “go around my feet?”
After reaching over her head to take them off the wall he knelt down and began fastening the leg irons on her ankles, above the straps on her shoes. When they were in place he checked the fit, and then double locked those cuffs as well. “That’s right,” he explained as he stood up. “The connecting chain is long enough for you to walk, though it will slow you down. The length is too short to run, even if you weren’t wearing heels.”
She leaned over to better see what he’d done. There was a larger handcuff locked around each ankle, with a longer connecting chain between them. “Be careful when you try to walk. These leg irons are a special version, modified with a shorter connecting chain.”
While he held onto her arm she took a tentative step forward. Her ankle jerked to a stop when the chain pulled tight. She tried again, with the other foot. Carefully she stopped before the chain halted her. She could walk, but not very fast or very far. She thought of the stairs down to the basement. Those might be something of a challenge to climb. He was right; she certainly wasn’t going to run away now.