Thea stayed rooted in the doorway. There was indeed a watch on his left wrist, but she would have to move closer to him to get at it. Worse, because the left side of the bed was pushed up against the wall, she would have to lean right over him and fiddle with the buckle. While she was doing that he could … she didn’t know … break loose, try to bite off her ear, or jam a knife she never knew he had right into her stomach so the last sight she’d have would be her own insides, hot and shiny, flopping out like fish onto the dusty floor.

How could the truth be in a watch?

Maybe it was a hi-tech one, with an inbuilt Wi-Fi connection that held a kill switch of some sort, something that would stop the whole process over at the Sleep Centre. It was possible. He was Moses Ing, Tech Emperor.

Why were they drugging him? What had he done?

She didn’t give herself any more time to think about it but crossed the room in a few short strides and bent over him, her heart beating fast in her throat. She held her breath, thinking to herself that it certainly didn’t look like a hi-tech watch as she struggled with the battered leather strap.

It came free and she staggered backwards, slumping over and clutching her knees to get air into her lungs and stop the black spots swimming before her eyes.

Just a watch.

A scuffed brown strap, a plain dial with clear black numbers, the kind of watch a grandad wore.

Just a watch.

With a little compartment in the back that opened if a nail was hooked under it.

And in that compartment …

A very small memory stick.

Chapter 29

The building was a blank of mirrors and ageing brickwork, nothing to catch the eye, nothing to stand out.

This was not the police station.

That visit had gone as expected, except with the added discomfort that they’d seen the policeman at the desk keeping order at one of their recent protests. ‘Still painting those placards, Viv?’ he’d said with a chuckle. She had left with some vague reassurances and a promise of a police phone call to Ing Enterprises. ‘Thing is, you know where she is, you see? And she’s an adult. The girl’s probably just lost track of time, that’s all,’ the policeman had said, kindly enough. ‘Youngsters these days.’

Inside the Ing Enterprises building, a sticky-sweet gloss covered every available surface. Vivian half expected to touch something and bring her fingers away trailing thin webs.

She turned to her friend, ‘Ready, Dels?’

‘As ever.’