Page 18 of Rat

“Weeks?”

Pichard hummed. “Yeah. I don’t trust the cleanliness of the shower water in here.” He eyed Rory. “You’re new, right?”

“Yeah. I arrived with Captain, the guy who helped me in here, and Ollie.”

Pichard ran a hand over his hair. It was blond, receding slightly at the temples. “And whose cell did you end up in?”

“Sebastian Claw’s.”

Pichard nodded.

“And Ollie ended up in Teddy’s cell. I’m not sure if that’s his real name or an ironic nickname?”

“Teddy…” Pichard blinked. He turned away and searched through the cabinet for a bandage. He continued to avoid Rory’s eyes even after he’d found a bandage and begun to attach it to Rory’s side.

“Ollie will be okay with him, right?”

“As long as he doesn't do anything stupid, I’m sure he will.”

Rory bit his lip.

“You’re all done,” Pichard said, retreating a step. “I suggest you stay here tonight and go back to the wing in the morning.Now, I have other patients to see. I’ll send the nurse in when she’s available to give you the shot.”

He removed his gloves, shoved them in his white coat, then stepped out of the curtain surrounding the bed. Rory lay down and frowned at the ceiling while he listened to Dr Pichard talk with the neighbouring patient. The inmate in question wasn’t from the same wing as Rory, but the adjacent one.

The pain in Rory’s side was no longer sharp and stabbing, but a dull ache that throbbed in waves. If he stayed still, it didn’t bother him, and the two paracetamol pills the doctor allowed him to take seemed to help.

He tugged the sheet out from beneath himself, then pulled it up to his chin to get some sleep.

An officer tugged the curtain back early the next morning.

“The governor wants to see you.”

Rory nodded and followed the officer down a long, narrow corridor. He pressed his hands to his side, limping slightly as the wound twinged and stretched with every step. He stopped outside a door and rapped his knuckles against the wood.

“Come in!”

The officer opened the door and gestured for Rory to step inside the office. The governor sat behind his huge desk, stern-faced and with the same military cut as Captain but with white hair. He stared at Rory, just like the two other people in the room.

Rory swallowed a jagged lump at the sight of his superiors standing at the edge of the desk. Detective Inspector Hamish and Detective Inspector Morris.

Hamish’s gaze snapped to where Rory had hold of his side. He was in his sixties, but his hair was brown, not a single grey. Rory knew he dyed it. Some days he could smell the peroxide when he spoke, not from the hair on his head, but the moustache on his top lip.

He pressed his lips together in a grim smile. “That didn’t go as planned.”

Rory averted his gaze.

“You were supposed to blend seamlessly into the prison and befriend Sebastian Claw.”

“He isn’t looking for friends.”

Morris sighed. Her salt-and-pepper frizzy hair was tied back, and her lashes were coated with black mascara. She lifted a small plastic bag from the desk so Rory could see the contents. A razor blade had been melted into the end of a pen. “This was found yesterday in the yard twenty minutes after the prison was locked down. Doesn’t seem likeanyonewants to be your friend.” She raised an eyebrow. “Next time you might not be so lucky.”

Rory’s side twinged. “Lucky?”

“Next time someone might use something similar across your throat.” She dropped the bag. Rory shivered. He’d been lying in bed thinking the exact same thing.

“That’s unlikely,” Hamish blurted. “Undercover work always has its perils.” He looked pointedly at Rory. “Your father knew that firsthand, but he never even thought about giving up. He was a good man.”

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