Allhoff also discusses torture in kidnapping situations. In chapter seven he leaves the reader with the following story:
Height of the [Australian] summer, Mercury at the century-mark; the noonday sun softened the [asphalt] beneath the [tires] of her little Hyundai sedan to the consistency of putty. Her three year old son, quiet at last, snuffled in his sleep on the back seat. He had a summer cold and wailed like a banshee in the supermarket, forcing her to cut short her shopping. Her car needed [gas]. Her tot was asleep on the back seat. She poured twenty [liters] into the tank; thumbing notes from her purse, harried and distracted, her keys dangled from the ignition.
[While] she was in the service station a man drove off in her car. Police wound back the [service station's close-captioned television], saw a heavy set Pacific Islander with a blonde-streaked Afro entering her car. "Don't panic," a Constable advised the mother, "as soon as he sees your little boy in the back he will abandon the car." He did; police arrived at the railway station before the car thief did and arrested him after a struggle when he vaulted over the station barrier.
In the [patrol car] on the way to the police station: "Where did you leave the [car]?" Denial instead of dissimulation: "It wasn't me." It was [him]--property stolen from the car was found in his pockets. In the detectives' office: "[It's] been twenty minutes since you took the car--little tin box like that car--It will heat up like an oven under this sun. Another twenty minutes and the child's dead or brain damaged. Where did you dump the car?" Again: "It wasn't me."
Appeal to decency, to reason, to self-interest: "It's not too late; tell us where you left the car and you will only be charged with Take-and-Use. That's just a six month extension of your recognizance." Threats: "If the child dies I will charge you with Manslaughter!" Sneering, defiant and belligerent; he made no secret of his contempt for the police. Part-way through his umpteenth, "It wasn't me," a questioner clipped him across the ear as if he were a child, an insult calculated to bring the Islander to his feet to fight, there a body-punch elicited a roar of pain, but he fought back until he lapsed into semi-consciousness under a rain of blows. He [had gotten into fights from time to time], but now, kneeling on hands and knees in his own urine, in pain he had never known, he finally [realized] the beating would go on until he told the police where he had abandoned the child and the car.
...When found, the stolen child was dehydrated, too weak to cry; there were ice packs and dehydration [remedies] in the casualty ward but no long-time prognosis on brain damage.