“How come it’s so quiet?” I ask. “I figured this place would be alive with the sound of madness or something…”
“All the cells are soundproof. They have to be, otherwise it’d be like a goddamn zoo in here.”
“Huh… makes sense.”
There’s no natural light along the corridor. The fixtures overhead are motion activated, so in front and behind us is pitch-black — only the lights directly above us are lit up as we walk.
I snap my head sideways.
I swear I just heard something from the door nearest to me…
I frown, slowing as I take a cautious step toward it.
I think this place is starting to get to me. He just finished telling me the rooms are soundproof…
But I definitely heard—
“I’d keep away from the doors if I were you,” the guard says, distracting me.
I turn my head to meet his gaze. See, now he’s told me to keep away, I have an overwhelming urge to move closer and look through the letterbox window at eye level, blocked by a metal flap. It’s an almost spiteful curiosity.
Spiteful… stupid — same difference.
It’s in my nature to do the opposite of what people who think they’re in charge tell me to do. It’s an illness, I know. But, especially given the way everyone’s acting around here, I feel compelled to look inside one of these rooms, or cells — whatever they call them — just to get a glimpse of what I might be dealing with when I meet Ruby.
I move over to the door, listening closely. There’s a. I move my hand slowly toward it, turning the catch as quietly as possible, holding my breath… I lower it gently, grimacing as the metal hinge squeaks. I put my face close to the window and peer inside. It’s completely black. I can’t see anything… A bit of an anti-climax, I admit. I guess I was thinking I’d—
A pair of eyes opens right against the glass.
I jump back, raising my arms instinctively. “Jesus fucking Christ!”
My heart’s racing — that scared the shit out of me!
The eyes stare at me, the pupils gray as old stone and the whites stained with red streaks. They don’t move, they don’t blink — they just… watch me.
The guard appears and moves to the door. Without hesitating, or looking at the eyes, he bangs his nightstick against the glass before closing the flap.
He presses a button on the intercom, which is mounted on the wall to the side of the door. “Back away from the door! Now!” He turns to me. “I did warn you… ”
I’m laughing only to hide the embarrassment, not because I thought any part of that was fucking funny.
“Heh… yeah, I won’t be doing that again, don’t worry.”
We continue on. About halfway down a metal gate is blocking the way. The guard takes a key and opens it, allowing me through before following me and locking it behind us. We soon approach the end of the corridor. There’s a door in front of us. The guard stops next to it.
“Your cousin’s in that room,” he says, nodding to the door on my right. “But we don’t open it up without a full team. Instead, we keep her in this particular cell because, along with the one opposite, it’s linked to an observation room, where you can see her and communicate with her without having to step inside.”
I’m really tempted to look through the window… No — don’t do it, Adrian.
“Is that not overkill?” I ask. “Even for this place…?”
The guard unlocks the door, then looks back at me, frowning. “You don’t know what she’s in here for, do you?”
I shake my head. I have a feeling I’m not going to like this…
“She set fire to a care home,” he continues. “Killed everyone in there. All sixty-two of the old bastards. Courts ruled she was certifiable, so they sent her here instead of giving her the chair. She’s… tormented, to say the least.”
Holy…
“Shit… Well, like I said, I’m just… y’know… doing right by the family…”
I thought she was in the business? That’s pretty out there, even for an assassin. I wonder if Case made a mistake. Saying that, he did say she was a plan B…
Christ, can you imagine what she would do if I let her loose in the White House? I smile to myself at the thought. It would certainly be one way of stopping Cunningham — burn the building to the ground!
Hmm…
The guard opens the door and steps to the side. “You’ve got five minutes with her. Any longer than that and she tends to get a little… agitated.”
I smile and walk through. The door closes behind me. The room is long and has two temporary walls dividing it with cheap doors cut into the plasterboard. I open the one on the right. There are two chairs side by side facing a window currently hidden behind closed curtains. Other than that, the room is empty.
I move over to the window. I feel myself hesitate before reaching for the curtains. There could be anything behind these… I’m not entirely sure I want to know.
No — man up, Adrian, you fucking woman!
I pull them back to reveal Ruby DeSouza’s cell.
Huh…
It’s well-lit by the fluorescent lighting overhead. The walls are gray brick and the floor is tiled. Everywhere is clean, spotless — not a mark to be found on any surface. As I look, at the far end there’s a single bed, neatly made, in one corner, with the door in the other. Nearest me, next to the window, is a toilet and sink with a desk opposite.
In the center of the room, there’s a woman sitting quietly on a chair, facing the window. Facing me. She’s… well, she’s stunning, if I’m honest. But she’s staring right at me, which is kind of freaking me out a little.
And now she’s tilting her head slowly at an angle, not blinking…
Okay, I don’t like it…
I sit in one of the chairs and compose myself, taking a deep breath. This place is doing a number on me, and I need to get my shit together.
I take another breath.
She’s still staring at me.
Her hair is jet black and cut short into a bob that finishes level with her chin. Her eyes are green, with long, black lashes. She’s wearing — and don’t ask me how she got the outfit — a very short black dress. The kind of dress women wear to a nightclub. Her long toned legs are crossed, and her hands are clasped on her lap. She has no shoes on, and she’s bouncing her foot like she’s sitting in a doctor’s waiting room or something, idly passing the time.
What the…
“Ruby?”
The foot stops bouncing. She uncrosses and recrosses her legs the opposite way.
I get a brief image of Basic Instinct in my head and thank God she’s not Sharon Stone right now…
She moves her head slowly to a different angle, never taking her eyes off me.
“You’re not… him,” she says. Her voice is faint, like a whisper. “Where is he?”
I frown. “Where’s who?”
“The nice man in the hat and the suit and the power tie, which has four different pastel colors merging into each other. He comes here once a day, about this time, with his newspaper and his drink of tea. Oh, he likes his tea. Same cup, every day. The same cup. I hope he washes it after each use… It will become stained. Yes it will. Stained. Like blood. Bloodstains. They don’t wash out. No, no, no, they don’t. They don’t wash out.”
Wow.
That’s… ah… that’s some kind of crazy she has going on for herself!
She’s not moved. She’s still sitting all prim and proper like an English rose. But those eyes… man, I can see the demons in those eyes.
They’re impressive.
I know a thing or two about dealing with demons and about letting them out. Dear Ruby here seems to let them roam free 24-7.