He sighed. Looked at the clock. It was three thirty in the morning.

The Captain had served under enough senior officers to know they were human, fallible, but it was another thing to cast aspersions on someone’s honesty. He had resigned himself several times over the last few days to forgetting about it. The matter was closed, the toxicology irrefutable. But still. It was a pity about Prisoner B, a somewhat strange act of God, but this, this death felt altogether more human. He gave another deep sigh and stretched out his arms, before getting up and walking to the window. The sea was far away tonight, a heavy moon, the barracks silent and dark. It was difficult to find silence here. In confined quarters, there was always someone to interrupt your thoughts. Time to yourself was so rare, and even then, leisure was usually taken with colleagues. He opened the window for a moment. Let the breeze in and contemplated the laughable smallness of the barracks perched on the cliff edge under the darkening moon.

31

Gogledd ♦ North ♦ Shamal

JOSEPH LET HIMSELF OUT of the house by the harbour as the morning mists cleared. He walked past the deserted jetty, listening to the bows of the boats jostling in the water. It was almost imperceptible, but he could feel the first indications of spring in the breeze. He would walk out of the village early, and up towards the main road north. From there he would hitch-hike to the run-down town by the docks. Make some enquiries. Pull in some favours. He knew some of the crane operators up there. Had drunk with them in seedy bars by the sea. Played cards. Lost the little money they had. His legs pulled as he walked upwards out of the village.