The good thing about the tattoo was that it increased her credibility as a convict, not just in the way that she was perceived by the other inmates but also in the way that she felt about herself – it helped her get into the right frame of mind psychologically to perform this role.

She had found when working undercover that the clothes you wore and the attitude you projected made people respond to you in a particular manner, which in turn reinforced the way you felt about yourself. It might have seemed like a superficial thing, but it was inestimably important when it came to maintaining a credible cover. It was the kind of thing which could mean the difference between gaining someone’s trust or not. It could even mean the difference between life and death.

Pretending to be someone else wasn’t as easy as it might have seemed though, especially when you had to act like you enjoyed the company of profoundly unpleasant people. Whatever you felt like on the inside, you couldn’t afford to let your cover slip for one moment.

Of course, there was always the concern in the back of the mind of every undercover police officer that a situation might arise where they would become so immersed in their role that they would forget who they had once been, that the person who would eventually emerge when the job was over would be someone completely different, someone permanently soiled by the darkness and corruption of that criminal world.

Bailey had never come close to that herself, but she certainly didn’t want to be in this prison any longer than she had to.

Chapter 40

Natalie Spakes lay asleep on the bunk, her long thick hair splayed across the pillow, her young face banded with shadows cast by the bars of the window, beyond which a sharp crescent moon hung brightly in the clear black sky.

She breathed in and out softly, her chest gently rising and falling, an occasional indecipherable murmur escaping from her lips.

She was the sole occupant of the cell. That was because the cells in the segregation block were each designed to only accommodate one inmate.

The segregation block lay separate from the four main house-blocks over on the northern side of the prison complex. It housed those inmates who could not mix with the general prison population for whatever reason – those who were vulnerable to assault by other inmates, such as snitches and sex offenders, and those who were particularly violent or unstable.

Lying there asleep, it was hard to tell which category Natalie belonged in. She looked deceptively peaceful, with no outward indication of the kind of trouble that might have brought her into this special accommodation unit.

The gentlest of breezes ruffled the hairs on her head.

She stirred a little and rolled over.

The fine hairs on her earlobes swayed imperceptibly.

She inhaled suddenly and her eyes popped open. She lay there looking up at the ceiling, wondering why she had woken up in what seemed to be the middle of the night.