Undersea Prison (24 page)

There was a hiss from the next room that alerted them to someone arriving.

The girl quickly closed Stratton’s cage door, picked up her bag and walked to the entrance. ‘We probably won’t meet again,’ she said, reaching for the door.‘Good luck.’

‘You too,’ he said.

She paused for a second before opening the door and Stratton thought he saw her expression soften. She closed the door behind her.

He could hear her talking with a man for a few seconds then there was another loud hiss and a clunk. A moment later the frosted-glass door opened and a portly Indian man wearing the classic uniform of a doctor - a white coat and a stethoscope poking out of his breast pocket - walked in. He looked over his glasses at Stratton.‘Ah. Lazarus rises.And if you’re not a Christian I don’t mean to offend. How are you feeling?’ he said cheerily, his Indian accent only barely perceptible behind some North American overtone whose identity Stratton could not begin to guess.

‘Fine,’ Stratton replied.

The doctor looked across the room at the false window and made a beeline for it. ‘My name’s Doctor Mani. I expect you’re thirsty,’ he said as he toggled the switch on the side of the frame until the New York skyline returned. The bird immediately attempted to land on the ledge. ‘There. Can’t stand the feeling I’m under the water all the time. I understand they’re considering providing something like this for the inmates’ cells. Or is it the galley? Yes, I think it’s the galley. A bit of atmosphere during mealtimes.They come in practically any landscape. I think they even have one of Mars, though God only knows who would want to feel they were on another planet. As if this place wasn’t enough,’ he added as he adjusted the brightness and then stood back to admire it. ‘Now then, soon as we have a drink I’ll run a series of tests, see how you’re coming along, and then let’s see if we can get you back into the mainstream as soon as possible.’

Stratton remained seated on the edge of the bed, wondering what this man had done to deserve his job.

‘Cat got your tongue?’

Stratton looked up at the doctor. He was still feeling unwell and was content to make it appear he was worse than he was.

‘Can you hear me? Can you talk?’ Dr Mani asked, putting on a professional smile.

‘I can hear you OK.’

‘Good . . . Now,’ the doctor said, reaching for a small plastic container, ‘first thing I need is a urine sample. Can you manage that for me?’ he asked, handing the container to Stratton.

Stratton took it and forced a smile.

‘I’ll leave you alone for a moment,’ the doctor said, leaving the room.

Stratton held the container and sighed. He decided now that he was in Styx he had officially begun his mission. He thought if he looked at it that way he could put behind him all the mishaps so far and start afresh. He was not surprised that this perception had not made him feel the slightest bit better.

 

Christine walked along a broad central corridor, the rock walls and ceiling dripping water onto a suspended shroud, intended to protect pedestrians, and on the outer edges of the metal walkway. A couple of prisoners wearing face masks and canisters on their backs were spraying the mildew and weeds that gathered in the crevices. A guard stood idly by. ‘Mornin’, ma’am,’ he said as she passed, eyeing her bottom. The prisoners paused to do the same.

Christine ignored them and headed along the corridor, the sound of her footsteps mingling with the noises of running water moving along channels beneath her feet and hissing air ducts above. An indistinct voice came over a loudspeaker further down the tunnel, followed by what sounded like a gong. The prison provided a kind of talking clock accompanied by various sounds but as far as she could tell it was grossly inaccurate. Like so many aspects of the prison, the seeds of good intention were visible but the execution was abysmal.

She headed up a spiral staircase inside a vertical rock tunnel that opened into a spacious cavern. It was constructed of a combination of steel girders, concrete and rock. One wall had a line of large round portholes, the six-inch-thick glass yellow with reflections from outside lights that illuminated any creatures that passed by. There was a single large white airlock door in the cavern that was more ornate than the others, suggesting it was an ‘exclusive’ entrance. She pushed a button on the side of the door and looked at a camera in front of her.

‘Give me one minute, would you, please,’ a metallic voice asked.

Christine turned her back on the camera. She knew she looked as distracted as she felt and made an effort to calm herself. She crossed her arms and then quickly unfolded them, dangling them at her sides until her laptop case almost fell off her shoulder. It wasn’t just the Nathan Charon situation that was unnerving her.The mysterious agent was an issue but was the least of her concerns at that moment. Time was her problem and compounding the pressure on her. It was running out and she had not yet devised a plan to complete her mission.

The door hissed and clunked behind her and she turned to watch it move back into its frame before it rolled out to one side.

Christine walked into Mandrick’s office as the door hissed again and closed behind her.

Mandrick was seated at his desk facing her but he was looking at a computer monitor while he tapped at a keyboard. When he finished he unplugged a minicomputer from a cable attached to the mainframe and got to his feet. She watched as he clipped it onto his belt, averting her eyes as he looked at her.

‘Christine,’ he said, beaming as he walked from behind his desk, a hand outstretched to greet her. ‘You always bring a smile to my heart whenever I see you.’ He took her hand and kissed her on the cheek, clearly savouring the contact.

She smiled, struggling to make it look as natural as possible. He held her gaze beyond cordiality before she broke it off, appearing to be a touch embarrassed.

‘I can’t help being forward with you,’ he said. ‘I have such little time left to impress you.’

‘You impress me, Pieter. No need to worry about that.’

‘Oh? How?’

‘You run the most dangerous prison in the world for the most powerful country in the world. That’s impressive.’

‘And that’s all that impresses you about me . . . my job?’

‘No. But that’s all we’re going to talk about right now . . . What does a girl have to do to get a cup of coffee around here?’

Mandrick reluctantly broke away from her and walked over to an ornate wooden dresser with a couple of thermos flasks on a tray alongside some cups. ‘When do you leave?’ he asked as he filled two cups with the black liquid.

‘I have a couple more inmates to interview, a guard or two. That’s me pretty much finished.’

‘Which prisoners would you like to interview?’ he asked as he passed her a cup.

‘You choose,’ she said and shrugged, taking a sip. ‘I’m just playing the numbers game.’

‘You haven’t asked to see any of our political prisoners. ’ He gave her a sideways glance.

‘I told you the day I arrived.This inspection is apolitical. I’m here to review health and living conditions for staff and inmates . . . To tell you the truth, those Taliban guys scare the hell out of me.’

Mandrick stared at Christine for a moment, his smile growing thin. ‘I don’t believe you,’ he said, his expression serious.

‘What don’t you believe?’ she asked, her smile hanging in there.

‘I don’t believe you scare that easily. I know potency when I see it. Particularly in a woman.’

‘I’m sure you’re very experienced. But you’re wrong this time,’ she said. ‘I’m a pussycat.’

His eyes flicked to her body, unable to resist looking at it. ‘And how is our Mr Charon?’ he asked. ‘You’ve spent quite a lot of time with him since he arrived.’

Christine shrugged. ‘I was waiting for him to regain consciousness. I’m going to be asked questions about the ferry incident.’

‘There’ll be an official inquiry.’

‘Yes, but I was here when it happened. I’ll have to refer to it in my report. I’ll probably get roped into the inquiry.’

‘Good. So we will see more of you.’

‘Not down here, I hope.’

‘My sentiments exactly.’

Mandrick was giving her the creeps and she hoped it didn’t show.

‘What did Charon have to say?’

‘Aren’t you going to talk to him yourself?’

‘Of course. But you hogged his initial reaction.’

Christine made a show of rolling her eyes at the word ‘hogged’. The subtle implication that she had a special interest in seeing Charon first was not lost on her. Mandrick often made little digs that suggested she was doing more than merely inspecting the prison. Sometimes she wondered if he really did know what she was doing and was just playing her along because he fancied his chances of getting her into bed. ‘He can’t remember much about it,’ she said. ‘All he recalls is the ferry flooding, the guard freeing them and him getting out of the hatch. I think he’s just thankful to be alive.’

Mandrick considered her answer as he sipped his coffee, his eyes lowering to admire her body again. When he looked back at her face she forced another smile.

‘Let’s get down to more important matters,’ he said.

‘When you’ve finished your task I’m going to escort you back to Houston and take you to dinner. And until you promise me that you will accompany me I can’t guarantee that any of the ferries will be working.’

‘How can I refuse such charming blackmail?’ she said.

‘It wasn’t an idle threat.’

‘I didn’t think it was,’ she said, looking away.

‘Why do I get the feeling that deep down you really don’t like me? Or am I being too sensitive?’

‘No.You’re not . . . I despise you. But you’ve discovered one of my darkest secrets,’ Christine said, putting down her cup and stepping closer to him.‘There’s always been something sinister about the men I’m most attracted to. It’s a good sign if I start off by loathing you.’ Her face was inches from his.

‘Not the characteristics of a pussycat,’ he said. Mandrick enjoyed the closeness but despite her forwardness he could feel the wall between them as if it was made of granite. He trusted no one at the best of times but Christine was an uninvited and unwanted guest over whom he had limited control. He would be a fool to believe she was a mere inspector. He would doubt her as a matter of course but something about her made that doubt more emphatic. Even so, he would still scheme to bed her even if she turned out to be an undercover Supreme Court judge. Every time he saw her all he could think about was how she would look naked. He wondered if she deliberately wore tight jeans just to taunt him. He would have taken her to his bed while she was in the prison if she had allowed him to. But she was proving difficult to ensnare.

It was all a part of that wall between them. They ate dinner together every evening, along with the doctor and any visiting engineers as was normal when there were guests. But when the others were ready to leave Christine departed with them. He wondered if she would evade their dinner date in Houston. Without a doubt, there was something phoney about her. But her body was real and desirable enough and he wanted her despite his doubts.

The phone on his desk rang. ‘Excuse me,’ Mandrick said as he walked over and picked it up. He talked in a low voice, the background hum that seemed to permeate every corner of the prison helping to mask his words. He removed his minicomputer, opened the cover, selected one of a dozen micro data-storage cards and inserted it into the side of the device. After pushing several command icons he gave the caller some information.

Christine stared at the device. It had become the holy grail of her mission, the final phase before she could get out of the damned place. She had been sent to reconnoitre the prison and look for information. Her brief was not actually to acquire that information but to pinpoint its location. Any more would have been asking too much of her. Further ops would be devised to obtain it.

But Christine wanted to complete the mission in one go. She promised herself not to take unnecessary risks but the drive to get the computer was strong in her. Technical attacks against the prison and corporation data files had failed to produce anything of value. From the moment she first saw the minicomputer she knew it contained everything Mandrick reckoned was secret. If she could get hold of it, or the memory cards, she would have achieved far more than she had come for. If she left the prison that minute and reported her find her mission would have been a success. But she was impetuous and hungry for success. She knew it was recklessness encouraged by her ego. Still, the closer she got to Mandrick, or the closer she allowed him to get to her, the more she believed she could succeed. If she attempted it while she was in the prison it would be a two-phase operation: first to get her hands on the material, second to get it and herself to the surface. It didn’t matter if Mandrick knew she had it once she was clear of Styx.

But that was the difficult part. If he found out before she reached the surface Christine would be in serious danger. The other option was to meet him in Houston and do the whole dinner thing. The risk with that would be if it was his habit to leave such a precious item in the safety of the prison.

Mandrick put down the phone and came back to her. ‘Where were we?’ he asked. ‘Oh, yes. You were telling me how you loathed me enough to have dinner with me in Houston.’

A buzzer interrupted them. Mandrick looked up at the bank of monitors that displayed practically every part of the prison. One of them showed a man in slacks and a jacket standing in the cavern outside his office. ‘There’s my luck again. I know you were about to give yourself to me. But duty calls.’ He produced his remote control and hit a button on it. There was a clunk as the door hissed and opened.

The man strode into the room, his manner authoritative. He was grim-faced and large, like a former lineman, still naturally tough but aged and out of condition. He seemed anxious to say something but held back as soon as he saw Christine.