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
‘Leave me alone,’ she mutters fiercely and waits for her eyes to clear to see the two men staring at her. One of them is huge and bearded. At least six foot four and standing in the door to the bathroom while holding a plastic cup. He looks familiar but she shifts her gaze to take in the one that moved towards her then blinks again as her mouth drops open.
‘You okay?’ Ben asks gently.
She watches him. Taking in the dark blond hair and features. Recognising him instantly. Knowing him instantly.
‘I’m Ben,’ Ben says. Safa glares harder. Her eyes fixed on his face, tracing along his scar, and then down to the grey tracksuit.
‘You’re Safa?’
She glares back at his face until he slowly lifts a hand and points behind her.
She turns and reads her own name stencilled in thick black letters. Safa Patel. She looks back at Ben then past him to Harry, who also looks so familiar. Like she knows him but cannot place him. She edges forward to the threshold of her doorway and peers across the room to the opened door on the other side and the name Ben Ryder stencilled in the same thick black letters. Her heart hammers, thundering in her chest.
‘Do I know you?’ Ben asks, staring intently at her. ‘You look familiar.’
She swallows and forces herself to look past him to the big man. ‘Who are you?’ she asks as Ben points to the door next to hers. She has to step out from the room to see but that means leaving the perceived safety of her room. Ben and Harry both detect the fear and move back at the same time to show they are not a threat. She edges out and peers round to the door next to hers and the name stencilled in thick black letters. Harry Madden. She shoots a hard look at Harry as her heart starts jackhammering again. He looks like Harry Madden. The other one looks like Ben Ryder. Harry Madden and Ben Ryder? They are both dead. She looks at the names then at the faces, trying to process what she is seeing and reading.
‘Mad Harry Madden,’ she mutters to herself and shakes her head. This is a dream. A nightmare or a hallucination brought on by the drugs. Maybe some kind of psychosis designed to unhinge her mind so she will blab about the terrorist attack. ‘Ben Ryder,’ she mutters and stares at Ben, locking eyes in the same way she did five years ago. It is the same man. She saw him. It was Ben then and it is Ben now. The same face she has thought about nearly every day for the last five years. The same man that made her want to be a police officer.
‘You’re dead,’ she whispers.
‘Feels like it,’ Ben says, pulling his head back an inch.