Doctor Who_ Cat's Cradle_ Warhead - Andrew Cartmel [110]
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21
Ace didn’t know what the time was. She’d been wearing a wristwatch when she was brought into the big cell, a circle of armed guards standing just inside the cell door, then retreating quickly as she was shoved inside. The door had chunked shut behind her on a remote control lock and then the other prisoners had begun to move forward, a slow tide.
The watch had been torn off her during the first fight. It didn’t matter; Ace didn’t need it. She could estimate the passage of time with a fair degree of accuracy. She guessed she’d been in the cell for about two and a half hours. She’d had to fight three men and two women. The women had been the worst. Then some fresh prisoners had arrived, two teenage boys. And because of them, and because she’d won the fights, Ace had been left alone.
Now she squatted in a corner of the cell, balanced so that the ball of each foot was on the concrete floor while she sat back on her heels. It was comfortable when you got the knack, although you had to rise up every so often, like doing deep knee bends, if you didn’t want your muscles to lock. There was a bench running the full length of one wall of the cell, but it was fully occupied and ruthlessly defended. You didn’t necessarily have to fight to get a place, but the other things you had to do were worse.
After the teenagers arrived Ace had a chance to sit back and look and listen, learning everything she could about this new environment. But then she’d heard the man talking about how his first month in the cell had been the worst, and someone else agreeing and saying it hardly ever took more than a year before you got your first court hearing. And then she’d seen the woman nursing a newborn child in one corner, a pale, quiet baby. And that was when Ace stopped looking and listening.
As she rocked back and forth on her heels Ace kept her arms hugged tight around herself, her bruised shoulder aching savagely now.
‘You’re the one, right?’
Ace looked up. She recognized the man from the crowds that had gathered during the fights. He had watched with interest and kept a safe distance. He was better dressed than the other prisoners and seemed to be able to move through any part of the cell with impunity.
‘I’m from the committee,’ said the man. ‘Actually, to tell you the truth, I am the committee.’ He smiled at Ace. ‘You’re a good fighter, I’m sorry to lose you.’ He signalled and two big men moved in quickly and dragged Ace to her feet. She pulled free but the men had already released her and moved back. ‘I was going to give you a week and then, if you held out, I was going to nominate you for the committee,’ said the well‐dressed man. ‘But that’s the way it goes. Come on.’
Ace didn’t move.
‘We haven’t got all day,’ said the man. ‘Even the committee can’t hold them back forever.’
What Ace recognized as a group of the most dangerous prisoners were creating a human corridor, their backs to her, facing outwards towards the other prisoners in the cell.
Ace walked along the corridor, the man from the committee beside her. ‘Listen, next time you’re arrested, see if you can get them to put you back in this cell.’
‘I’m not coming back.’
The man was looking past Ace at the cell door. ‘Maybe not,’ he said.
Waiting beyond the barred door were a man and woman. The woman looked just a few years older than Ace, the man’s age was harder to guess. He had beautiful Eurasian features but he was stooped and old looking; beaten looking. Ace found herself thinking that he wouldn’t last long in the cells.
The woman leaned forward and passed something through the bars. It looked like a telephone. The man from the committee accepted the telephone and took an American Express card out of his shirt pocket. Ace saw that the portable phone had a small screen on the handset. The man ran his credit card down a groove in the side of the phone and the screen lit up, showing numbers and a dollar sign. ‘That’s equitable,’ said the man. There was the chunking sound Ace had heard once before and the cell door shivered.
The man stood aside politely