Weaveworld

2

The interrogation of the male suspect had proved disappointing for Hobart. The man was either an imbecile or a damn good actor – one minute answering his questions with more questions, the next, talking in riddles. He’d despaired of getting any sense from the prisoner, so he’d left him in the company of Laverick and Boyce, two of his best men. They’d soon have the man spitting the truth, and his teeth with it.

Upstairs at his desk he’d just begun a closer analysis of the book of codes when he heard the sound of breakage from below. Then Patterson, the officer he’d left guarding the woman, began yelling.

He was heading down the stairs to investigate when he was inexplicably seized by the need to void his bladder; an ache which became an agonizing pain as he descended. He refused to let it slow his progress, but by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs he was almost doubled up.

Patterson was sitting in the corner of the passageway, his hands over his face. The cell door was open.

‘Stand up, man!’ Hobart demanded, but the officer could only sob like a child. Hobart left him to it.