Jax bounced on his toes to warm up as he waited for the guard to unlock the next reinforced gate. It was cold and his two green fleecy tracksuit tops were back in the tub. Through the gate, they moved along a path towards a red-brick building. Once inside, Rogers’ boots echoed as he strode down the linoleum-covered entrance. The fresh rubber on Jax’s Dunlops squelched and occasionally squeaked as they walked.

They came to a stop when they reached another grim double steel door. Stride (82 centimetres) × steps (552) = 452 metres – the distance between the reception block and the ominous entrance to his wing.

D-BLOCK

WARNING: HIGH-RISK INMATES

AUTHORISED DOCS PERSONEL ONLY

The black letters, stencilled on a coat of grey, were unmissable. Jax sucked in a big gulp of air and steeled himself for whatever he was about to face. He could not show fear. He could not look weak.

Rogers ordered Jax to step into a yellow-painted grilled contraption a little reminiscent of a small elevator. As he did, Jax clocked the archaic surveillance camera mounted on the wall to his right. Its body was the size of a shoe box and its lens looked like an aerosol can – Jax was almost certain the model was too old to even record in colour, let alone capture audio.

After locking Jax into the box, Rogers moved out of sight briefly, then back into view as he waved an electronic key in front of an electronic lock in a side door. The red light above the keypad turned green, but the doors did not open. Double authentication. Jax paid close attention as Rogers extended his index finger and prodded the keypad. Jax squinted, trying to make out the slight movements of then guard’s finger: 4-5-3-9-8-7. The green light began to flash.

Rogers disappeared through the door before reappearing a few moments later on the other side of Jax’s box and releasing him. Jax stepped into an aircraft hangar–sized space, which was silent and still. He held his breath and braced as they set off.