Chapters (45)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Prologue
- 2046
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- About the Author
‘Yeah, I suppose. I’m bringing gloves if we come back again.’
‘I’m bringing earplugs so I don’t have to listen to you.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Funny!’
‘I try.’
‘You’re very trying. We’re here, you ready?’
Three
Three
2020
‘Listen up.’ The sergeant waits for the conversations to stop. ‘Duties. Smith, front door, Carter and Lamb on the main gate, Pilkington, you’re at the rear, and Patel, you’re upstairs.’ He rattles through the roster, glancing up to get a visual check that each officer understands their posting. ‘Nothing new intelligence-wise. It’s Friday night so hopefully he will retire to his rooms and you shall have a peaceful and pleasant shift. Patel, you cover the main corridor in addition to upstairs.’
‘Will do.’
‘Questions? No? Good. Five minutes then we take over from the day shift.’ The conversations spark up again as handguns are checked, boots polished, hats brushed, hair tidied, ammunition fed into magazines and utility belts adjusted.
‘Safa,’ the sergeant calls out, ‘a word in my office.’ He walks off ignoring the low calls of the other officers as Safa flicks them a middle finger and walks after the sergeant across the corridor and into his office. ‘Close the door,’ he says, taking a seat.
She does as told and pushes the door closed before standing easy and watching as the sergeant activates the screen on his tablet, thumbs across and hands it over without saying a word. She hesitates for the briefest of seconds then reaches out to take the device.
‘Read it,’ the sergeant says.
‘It’s headed confidential,’ Safa says, wondering if this is an integrity test.
‘It’s about you, read it,’ he says.
She scrolls down the screen, glancing at the email addresses and dates and times until getting to the main body of text. With a heavy heart she scans the text until reaching the bottom, then blinks and reads it again. Glancing up she notices the grin on the sergeant’s face.
‘Accepted?’ she asks. ‘Seriously?’
‘That’s what it says,’ the sergeant replies. ‘I tried to stop it going through of course,’ he adds wistfully. ‘I told them you were the laziest, most bone-idle copper I’ve ever worked with and you couldn’t hit the side of a barn with a shotgun and you were rude, obnoxious and just generally shit at your job.’
‘So they ignored you then?’
‘Everyone bloody ignores me,’ he grumbles. ‘Might as well not be here for anyone actually listening.’
‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘Very funny,’ he says, standing up and holding a hand out. ‘Well done, Safa.’
‘Finally,’ she says, taking his hand.
His expression softens. ‘Got a month to do,’ he says gently. ‘I can maybe speed it up by a few days or a week . . .’
‘It’s fine.’
‘It’s not fine. It’s not bloody fine, Safa.’
‘Sarge . . .’
‘Go to the federation,’ he urges. ‘Speak to someone.’
‘No.’
‘Safa . . .’