‘My fellow jailbird,’ said Nadia, raising a bottle of Yuichi’s home brew as I pulled up a seat. Selwyn grunted something at me. ‘Now you can tell us all about what life was like on the inside.’

‘I heard what happened,’ said Selwyn, his accent a deep Welsh rumble. ‘Bit nasty, that.’

‘Bramnik said he let you out,’ I said to Nadia, and she nodded. I looked around. ‘Where’s Rozalia?’

‘Went home to get some sleep,’ Nadia replied. ‘I’ve still got too much adrenalin in me.’

‘That’s the first time I’ve met Bramnik,’ I said. ‘You should know he had a huge argument with that guy Agent Greenbrooke right in front of me.’

‘Really?’ Nadia sat up a little more. ‘That must have been a hell of a thing to see.’

I gave a quick rundown of what I’d heard and seen in between shovelling spoonfuls of beans and grits into my mouth, then nodded to the beer bottle clutched in her hand. ‘Isn’t it maybe just a little early for that?’ I said, trying to make it sound like a joke.

‘In your ass,’ she said, draining the last dregs. ‘I’ve been in three different alternates since breakfast yesterday, and my body clock insists it’s Happy Hour.’ She dropped the empty bottle back down with a thud. ‘I make it beer o’clock, and screw you if you disagree.’

I put my hands up in surrender, then picked up my coffee. ‘Now maybe someone can tell me what the hell a “Patriot agent” is, and why I never heard of them before.’

‘They’re not really called Patriots,’ said Selwyn. He tapped a cigarette out of a crumpled pack and lit it, sucking hard until the tip glowed orange. ‘That’s just what I hear the soldier-boys at the base call them, and not necessarily in a complimentary way. They’re like the equivalent of the FBI or CIA or something, back where the Authority all come from.’

‘Yeah,’ said Nadia. ‘I think they’re called something like the Department of Political Investigation. We’ve been seeing more of them around here lately.’

‘Really?’ I asked.

‘Indeed.’ Selwyn nodded. ‘Greenbrooke – or the people he works for, at any rate – appear to have developed a special interest in how things are being run here.’ He gave me a crooked smile. ‘Whatever he said or did, don’t take it personally. There isn’t one of us hasn’t had some kind of run-in with Greenbrooke or those other bastards.’

‘The point is,’ said Nadia, ‘not only is Greenbrooke an asshole, he is the asshole by whom all other assholes are measured. Because, if there’s one thing the Authority seems to excel at, it’s grinding out officious little pricks like Langward Greenbrooke.’ She shook her head. ‘Jesus. Even that name. Some people, I swear, are screwed from birth.’