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
Harry pushes the handle down and steps back to swing the door open. ‘Same,’ he says. Safa and Ben walk down to stare into a replica of the rooms they just came from. A main room with three pale blue moulded armchairs. A bathroom with three towels, three cups and three toothbrushes. The doors from the main room lead to the same austere bedrooms, each fitted with a single metal-framed bed. They go down the corridor, taking it in turns to open the doors. Each set of rooms is the same and the stress rises as quickly as the sweat prickles their faces and necks. Dark patches form under Harry’s armpits. Bare feet slap gently on the concrete floor and the feeling of being unable to catch up increases by the minute. At the end of the corridor they stop and stare at the double doors fitted into the wall.
‘Listen,’ Harry whispers, bending his head closer to the door to listen to the voices coming from the other side. ‘People.’
‘We’ve got to be in a prison,’ Ben whispers.
‘No locks,’ Harry says, shaking his head.
‘Maybe it’s a weird prison then, like a special terrorism prison?’ Ben says, feeling completely out of his depth. ‘Maybe . . . er . . . we should stay together?’ Blank looks from both of them and he bites his lip, trying to think how to form his words. ‘Safa, you’re a copper right?’ Ben asks.
‘Yeah, so?’
‘I thought they didn’t like coppers in prisons . . . and, er, lady coppers especially?’ Ben adds with a wince.
She blanches, glaring from Ben to Harry with her lips pursing.
‘Stay together?’ Ben asks them both. Harry nods, looking down at Safa.
‘Miss?’
‘I can handle myself,’ she says firmly.
‘Fine, sorry I was—’ Ben starts.
‘Stay together then,’ she says, cutting him off. ‘If you want to, that is.’
‘I do,’ Ben says. ‘I mean, look at the size of him.’ He motions at Harry. ‘I don’t want to get done in the showers.’
‘Done?’ Harry asks innocently.
‘We’ve got our own showers,’ Safa says.
‘Done for what?’ Harry asks again.
‘You know,’ Ben says to Harry. ‘In the showers in prisons . . .’
‘Beaten?’ Harry asks.
‘Yeah, something like that,’ Ben says meekly as Harry rolls his eyes.
‘That was a joke,’ Harry says. ‘I know what they do in prisons.’
‘Fuck’s sake,’ Ben groans.
‘They steal from each other, right?’ Harry says, holding that poker face perfectly.
‘Let’s just get in,’ Safa orders with a grim expression, pushing past Harry and through the double doors.
Seven
Seven
The room is big and square with bare concrete on all sides. Metal shutters run down the length of one wall with a long wooden table underneath. Harry nudges Ben and Safa to look at the bowls of fruit on display.