The blonde woman yanked Polar back against the bars. His head struck the metal with a low, melodious chime. ‘We mean it!’ she said, shaking, almost frothing at the mouth.

Kate watched the big man make a great show of thinking about it. Then finally he spoke.

‘Go ahead. Kill him. Retard’s next to useless anyhow.’

He turned and strutted over to Kate’s locker, ignoring the cries and the clamour that greeted his words.

She shrunk back from the grille but there was nowhere to go.

He winked at her. ‘Enjoy the show.’

As he moved aside she caught a glimpse of Polar, still pulled up helplessly against the bars, while the blonde and the rest of her cellmates beat his body like a punchbag, egged on by the other prisoners, screaming out their frustration and rage.

She waited for Polar to transform, to let loose his ’wolf. But maybe they’d hit him too hard, too quick. He only broke his silence with a long, loud scream of despair that twisted her guts.

Kate turned away, shaking uncontrollably. How long now before she was thrown to these animals herself?

Chapter Sixteen

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

When Tom became aware of the world again, he was tied to a chair in a dingy office. Fatigue viciously defined every muscle in his body. His head pounded like a deranged child was banging a drum in his ear, and he felt weak as a kitten.

Behind the desk in front of him was a pink-eyed, skinny man in a dark suit that emphasised his ghostly complexion. A silver helix earring snaked down from his only ear. His skin was cratered with acne scars, his white hair speckled out of his flaking scalp. He bared his sharp yellow teeth in a knowing grin.

‘Takapa?’ Tom croaked.

The man nodded. ‘Here we are, face to face at last. You’ve been a tiresome strain on my resources, Tom Anderson. Thank you for allowing yourself to be captured so easily.’

‘How did that guy get in through a window thirty storeys up?’ Tom muttered.

‘The platform used by the hotel window cleaners was fortuitously placed,’ said Takapa smugly. ‘Perhaps that’s why Marcie booked that particular room on the Andersons’ behalf.’

Tom felt disgusted with himself. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t check the window,’ he muttered.

‘He and Marcie took you out of there in the same way so as not to arouse suspicion. But, come now.’ Takapa rose from his chair. His suit hung baggily from his skeletal frame. ‘I suspect you’re relieved in a way, no? I don’t think that you’re a killer, Tom.’ He smiled down at his captive, his watery eyes gleaming. ‘I believe that if Marcie or myself had walked through that door, you could not have brought yourself to shoot.’

Tom flashed a big, fake smile back up at him. ‘If you’re that curious, how about we stage a reconstruction?’