length. ‘Mmm,’ he crooned, licking it.
Kotlas, sideways on and without a clear view of Fleur, hardly dared imagine the tortures inflicted to make her scream the way she had. One man, Kotlas saw, wore an officer’s trousers. The fly gaped open, revealing a semi-flaccid penis. Semen stained the fabric of the upper left thigh.
‘Vanner?’ he said, loud enough to get their attention without alerting the inmates in the basement.
A head shot up. Wild-eyed, his face remarkably lined for an eighteen-year-old, Vanner wiped saliva from his chin. ‘Who’s asking?’
‘My name is Kotlas. I’m a doctor.’ Eye contact established, he continued, ‘I’m new. We haven’t met. I’ve just been running through Dr Rubenstein’s notes with him, and I have to say, I’m pleased you and Fisher are getting along.’
‘Been talking to Rubenstein?’ Fisher said, measuring him. ‘Where is he? And where the fuck is Bales?’ He levelled the screwdriver at Edwards, and jerking his head, signalled the two men adjacent to him. ‘Bring that fucker over here. To me.’
Grim-faced, but with laughter dancing in their eyes, they separated and moved towards the guard. Nonchalant grins on their faces, they manoeuvred themselves instinctively, angling wide, then coming in left and right, knowing the officer would be hard-pushed to counter a simultaneous attack.
Edwards’ feet moved apart. His stance lowering, the baton rested on his shoulder, ready to strike.
‘You know, Vanner,’ Kotlas said, without taking his eyes from him. ‘I thought there might have been some animosity between the two of you, especially after Fisher told Rubenstein that he knew why you banned your mother from visiting.’
The youth stared, his silence inviting the psychiatrist to continue.
‘He told him that once you heard about starfishing, you fantasized about doing it to her with him.’ Kotlas jabbed an accusing finger in the other man’s direction. ‘Isn’t that right, Fisher?’
Vanner spun around. ‘What’s this, you two-faced cunt?’
‘He’s lying. Can’t you see?’ Fisher said, waggling the glistening steel shaft. ‘Get him over here and we’ll soon have him squealing the truth. I’ll screw it out of him with this.’
‘How did he know about that, then, if you never said it?’ Vanner raged, pointing at the woman on the table-tennis table. ‘You’ve just fuckin’ done it to her.’
‘So did you,’ Fisher sneered.
Vanner lunged at him.
Distracted by the confrontation, the bare-footed men closing on Edwards hesitated.
The guard seized his chance. Exploding into action, he brought his baton down with great force onto the skull of the patient to his left. The man dropped, as instantly as if the tendons behind his knees had been severed. Spinning to face the second assailant, the guard raised his weapon to deliver another blow. Fuelled by desperation, the second man snatched at Edwards’ wrist with his right hand, and catching it, yanked down, his left elbow driving into the hapless officer’s face.
Kotlas shot forward, pushing the inmate sharply, causing his follow-up blow to miss. At the sound of footsteps thundering along the corridor downstairs, he spun on his heels. In seconds, he realised, reinforcements from the basement would arrive. Heart thumping, he swept his gaze around the room, taking in Fisher and the teenager locked in combat and grappling at arm’s length. Vanner held the screwdriver at bay, his fist wrapped around the fluid-slicked shaft. Fisher wrenched it left and right in a vain attempt to snatch it away from him. He saw Edwards, down on one knee, lashing out with his baton, ineffectively, struggling under a rain of blows as he fought to stand up.
Kotlas thought quickly. He had to even the odds. The rings of the cuffs given him earlier grasped in both fists, he rushed at the fallen guard’s attacker. In one fluid move, he dropped both hands over the inmate’s head, yanking the chain back, strangling
Kotlas, sideways on and without a clear view of Fleur, hardly dared imagine the tortures inflicted to make her scream the way she had. One man, Kotlas saw, wore an officer’s trousers. The fly gaped open, revealing a semi-flaccid penis. Semen stained the fabric of the upper left thigh.
‘Vanner?’ he said, loud enough to get their attention without alerting the inmates in the basement.
A head shot up. Wild-eyed, his face remarkably lined for an eighteen-year-old, Vanner wiped saliva from his chin. ‘Who’s asking?’
‘My name is Kotlas. I’m a doctor.’ Eye contact established, he continued, ‘I’m new. We haven’t met. I’ve just been running through Dr Rubenstein’s notes with him, and I have to say, I’m pleased you and Fisher are getting along.’
‘Been talking to Rubenstein?’ Fisher said, measuring him. ‘Where is he? And where the fuck is Bales?’ He levelled the screwdriver at Edwards, and jerking his head, signalled the two men adjacent to him. ‘Bring that fucker over here. To me.’
Grim-faced, but with laughter dancing in their eyes, they separated and moved towards the guard. Nonchalant grins on their faces, they manoeuvred themselves instinctively, angling wide, then coming in left and right, knowing the officer would be hard-pushed to counter a simultaneous attack.
Edwards’ feet moved apart. His stance lowering, the baton rested on his shoulder, ready to strike.
‘You know, Vanner,’ Kotlas said, without taking his eyes from him. ‘I thought there might have been some animosity between the two of you, especially after Fisher told Rubenstein that he knew why you banned your mother from visiting.’
The youth stared, his silence inviting the psychiatrist to continue.
‘He told him that once you heard about starfishing, you fantasized about doing it to her with him.’ Kotlas jabbed an accusing finger in the other man’s direction. ‘Isn’t that right, Fisher?’
Vanner spun around. ‘What’s this, you two-faced cunt?’
‘He’s lying. Can’t you see?’ Fisher said, waggling the glistening steel shaft. ‘Get him over here and we’ll soon have him squealing the truth. I’ll screw it out of him with this.’
‘How did he know about that, then, if you never said it?’ Vanner raged, pointing at the woman on the table-tennis table. ‘You’ve just fuckin’ done it to her.’
‘So did you,’ Fisher sneered.
Vanner lunged at him.
Distracted by the confrontation, the bare-footed men closing on Edwards hesitated.
The guard seized his chance. Exploding into action, he brought his baton down with great force onto the skull of the patient to his left. The man dropped, as instantly as if the tendons behind his knees had been severed. Spinning to face the second assailant, the guard raised his weapon to deliver another blow. Fuelled by desperation, the second man snatched at Edwards’ wrist with his right hand, and catching it, yanked down, his left elbow driving into the hapless officer’s face.
Kotlas shot forward, pushing the inmate sharply, causing his follow-up blow to miss. At the sound of footsteps thundering along the corridor downstairs, he spun on his heels. In seconds, he realised, reinforcements from the basement would arrive. Heart thumping, he swept his gaze around the room, taking in Fisher and the teenager locked in combat and grappling at arm’s length. Vanner held the screwdriver at bay, his fist wrapped around the fluid-slicked shaft. Fisher wrenched it left and right in a vain attempt to snatch it away from him. He saw Edwards, down on one knee, lashing out with his baton, ineffectively, struggling under a rain of blows as he fought to stand up.
Kotlas thought quickly. He had to even the odds. The rings of the cuffs given him earlier grasped in both fists, he rushed at the fallen guard’s attacker. In one fluid move, he dropped both hands over the inmate’s head, yanking the chain back, strangling
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