She jolted, as if a current had just cut her in two. Her eyes swivelled into the corners of her skull. She looked back over her shoulder at me without moving.
‘Get up.’
She stood slowly, three vials clasped in one hand, her other outstretched to tell me she wasn’t going to be any trouble.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Sarah,’ she said quietly.
‘Okay, Sarah. Now tell me: what the fuck is going on here?’
She didn’t reply, so I lowered the gun and grabbed her by the back of the neck. The sudden movement made her drop the vials. They smashed against the bathroom floor. She winced, as if I was about to hit her, and did so again when I turned her around and pushed her into Room B. I forced her downwards, so she was almost doubled over. Her face was right in front of the help me message.
‘Can you read that?’
She nodded. Her breathing was short and sharp. Scared.
‘Good. So you speak English. Someone carved that message in the wall and left half their fingernails in there. You can see their fingernails, can’t you?’
She nodded again.
‘Speak up, I can’t hear you.’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. You any idea how painful that is? You any idea how desperate someone has to be to carve a message in a wall with their own fingernails?’
She didn’t move.
‘Sarah?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes what?’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Good. Which is why you’re going to start answering some questions for me. Because if you don’t, you’re going to scratch a new message in the door next to it, with your fingernails. Got it?’
She nodded.
I pulled her up and guided her out of the room. I couldn’t stand the smell any longer.
On the landing, I forced her to kneel down facing one of the walls. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror, and didn’t like the person I was seeing. But things had changed now. I had changed. There was no going back to the man I’d been before. Not now. They’d made certain of that.
‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ I said. She was kneeling down, one of her hands on the wall in front of her. ‘But I will hurt you if you don’t give me what I want.’
I paused, let her take it in. She nodded.
‘Okay. First. What is the room with the rings used for?’
A little hesitation, then: ‘Acclimatization.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘We bring them here to dry them out.’
‘Dry them out?’
‘Yes.’
‘What are they — drug addicts?’
She nodded again.
‘We’re not doing sign language any more. Yes or no?’
‘Some, yes.’
‘Some, but not all?’
‘Not all. But most.’
‘You’re running a drug programme?’
‘Kind of.’
‘You are or you aren’t?’
‘We are. But it’s not…’
‘Not what?’
‘Not like a normal programme.’
I glanced into the room with the rings. Saw the handcuffs, the blood spatters. Smelt the decay and the sickness.
‘No kidding,’ I said. ‘So, what is it then?’
‘It’s a way to help people forget.’
‘Forget what?’
‘The things they’ve seen, and the things they’ve done.’
‘Like what?’
She paused, finally dropped her hand away from the wall, and turned her head slightly so she could look at me.
‘I’m not sure you’d understand.’
‘I guess we’ll see.’
Another pause. She turned back to the wall.
‘They’ve all suffered traumas,’ she said.
‘Like what?’
‘Life-affecting traumas.’
‘Specifics,’ I said.
She turned her head again, and this time her eyes fixed on mine. They moved across my face, flashing. In her expression, I could see the fear I’d glimpsed after I’d surprised her. But now, somehow, it looked less convincing… as if she might be playing me. As if all of this — the scared little girl, the soft voice — might be how she turned the game on its head.
‘Life-affecting traumas like what?’ I said.
She smiled a little, sadly. ‘Like Derryn.’
I grabbed her by the neck and pressed her head into the wall. A puff of plaster spat out at her face, forcing her to close her eyes. She coughed.
I leaned into her ear.
‘Don’t try to get inside my head. Don’t mention her name. Don’t ever try to use her as a way to get at me. I hear you say her name again, I’ll fucking kill you.’
She nodded.
I released the pressure on her neck and she opened her eyes again.
‘Keep your eyes closed.’
She frowned, as if she didn’t understand.
‘Keep your eyes closed.’
She shut them.
‘Specifics,’ I repeated. ‘Give me specifi—’
‘Sarah?’
A man’s voice at the front of the house. The crunch of snow underfoot. It sounded like he was coming around towards the back door. I leaned in close to her.
‘Don’t make a sound, got it?’
Those eyes snapped open again and she looked at me. She wasn’t beautiful, but her face had a hypnotic quality. It lured you in, and forced you to lose precious seconds.
‘Sarah?’
He was inside the house. I covered her mouth and hauled her to her feet, then slowly backed up, with her in front of me, into Room A.
‘Sarah?’
A creak on the stairs.
I pushed her into the centre of the room, and moved back, behind the door. She looked at me and saw what I was telling her: don’t do anything stupid.
‘Sarah?’
She faced the door. ‘I’m up here.’
I looked through the gap in the door, to the stairs. A head appeared, but slowly, as if he knew something was up.
‘You okay?’ he said.
‘Yeah, fine.’
‘What are you doing?’
Eastern European accent.
He stopped short of the top of the stairs and looked around. I could see snatches of his face between the bars on the staircase. His eyes were darting between the doors.
‘Just getting the supplies.’
He took another step.
‘What’s taking so long?’
She paused. Looked at me.
I could see the man’s face now. It was Stephen Myzwik. Older than in the mugshots, but leaner and more focused. He had a hand placed at the back of his trousers as he stepped up on to the landing. Reaching for a gun.
‘It’s warm in here.’
I shot a look at Sarah. What the hell are you talking about? She just stared back at me. Didn’t move. Didn’t say anything else. When I glanced back in Myzwik’s direction, I could see his gun was up in front of him, aimed in the direction of the bedrooms. His eyes flicked left to the smashed vials on the bathroom floor as he moved across the landing almost silently.
‘Where?’
‘Room A,’ she said.
They were speaking in code.
I gripped the gun, and watched as Myzwik moved to the door, then stopped. He looked in at Sarah. And without her saying anything, he seemed to immediately know where I was.
I ducked as he fired twice through the door.
The noise shattered the silence, piercing the walls of the building and cracking across the fields outside. Wood splintered above me as bullets passed through the door. A shower of plaster rained down into my hair and face.
I kicked the door closed. It slammed shut, rattling in its frame. Sarah glanced at me, then at the door, trying to work out if she could get there before I got to her. But she didn’t move for it. Instead, she turned, her hands up again, backing away. I raised the gun and pointed it at her, then darted across the room, grabbed her by the arm and brought her into me.