Gilded Cage (Dark Gifts #1)(51)
The open-barred cells beyond didn’t contain the stench. It was a rancid blend of everything revolting that could come out of a human body. At first Luke strained to make out the huddled shape of Oz on the floor. When he did, he really wished he hadn’t. The guard aimed a torch so bright it was effectively weaponized light straight at Oz’s face. The only small mercy was that his eyes were swollen completely shut. Oz couldn’t have opened them into that blinding glare even if he’d wanted to.
‘Up you get,’ said the guard, poking Oz with his baton. ‘The Overseer and Heir Gavar Jardine request the honour of your company at a party for one. And you’ve not bothered to dress for it. Tut tut.’
Luke’s fists clenched. Oz didn’t move.
‘Dunno if he can stand,’ said the guard. ‘Reckon you might have to drag him.’
‘I’ll deal with this,’ said Jackson, stepping forward.
He crouched down by Oz. Could their friend even recognize him? Oz gave no sign. But he yielded up a sudden, almighty moan and rolled onto all fours. The Doc must have jabbed him with a shot of adrenaline.
‘Get up,’ Jackson said, making his voice hard and indifferent. Then to Luke: ‘Get him moving.’
Luke grabbed Oz by the back of his boilersuit and hauled. Oz came up slowly, but at least partly under his own strength. Thank goodness. Nothing broken, then.
Apart from his nose, perhaps. Probably a cheekbone. Maybe an eye socket. There was no way Jessica could have coped with seeing him like this, in here.
‘We’ll be going,’ Jackson told the guard. ‘Don’t want to keep our betters waiting.’
The cell guard shrugged. ‘Good riddance to that one. He kept quiet in interrogations – daresay he fancies himself a tough guy. But when he was by himself you’d hear him crying like a girl. Hope your boss gets more out of him than the lads here managed.’
Fortunately, both of Luke’s hands were clenched in Oz’s overalls, the fabric stiff and sticky, because everything in him ached to give this scumbag a pasting.
Once back out through the barred doors, Jackson and Luke supported Oz through the corridors. Oz had somehow cracked one eyelid open, and a tiny black pupil swimming in bloodshot sclera peered out at them, like the eye of a deep-sea creature fathoms down. Could he see clearly enough to recognize them? Luke hoped so.
Jackson’s earpiece hissed in a different pitch than before. Renie, must be.
‘Keep walking,’ said the Doc, when the sound stopped, ‘and don’t hesitate. On the other side of the second checkpoint, we’re going to meet some people. Ignore them. You know the pickup point. We’ll take Oz straight there. If I get caught up in anything, you keep going. Don’t wait for me. Get him in that vehicle and away.’
A fist-sized lump of dread lodged itself in Luke’s throat, but he swallowed it down. He let his gaze fall slightly out of focus, in that dead-eyed way Security often had. He was Security. He had the ID to prove it.
At the second checkpoint Luke said nothing as he held out the cuff. Didn’t let himself wince when Oz groaned as the guard grabbed his arm to run the chip-sensing device over it.
‘You got the alert?’ the Doc asked as he submitted his wrist. ‘I think news travels faster across our network than it does on general comms. Because you really don’t want to miss it. Screw up and they’d put you in this one’s old cell.’
Jackson gave Oz a nudge that made him stumble, and laughed nastily.
‘Alert? What?’ The guard screwed up his face anxiously.
‘You’ve not heard? Rescue attempt. Seems Walcott’s associates have been listening in on your piece-of-junk channel and are on their way to free him. That’s why we got dispatched in a hurry. I’ll be sorry to miss it. They’ve got some bloke posing as Heir Jardine himself. Except I guess they never checked the photos, ’cause they’re trying to pass off some red-haired dude. Everyone knows the Jardines are blond.’
‘They are?’ The man’s face was ashen. He revolved the cuff on his wrist and swiped the display. ‘No notification. Why are we always the last to know? How am I supposed to stop them?’
‘Better share it with your colleague at the entrance,’ said the Doc. ‘If I were you guys, I’d let them through, then keep them locked in. You’ll have caught them all by yourself, and they’ll be where they’re going to end up anyway, in the max wing. Job done.’
The relief on the man’s face was palpable. ‘Yeah. Yeah, neat. Thanks.’
And on they went, leaving the guard calling up his colleague on his helmet’s mic. Up ahead came the bang and echo of the concrete floor. It was hard to tell how many pairs of feet were headed towards them. Three?
‘We’re into the general remand space,’ Jackson said, low and fast. ‘So our prisoner could be anyone. Gavar Jardine will almost certainly be with the Overseer’s personal Security, so they won’t know Oz on sight either. Not that his own mother would know him, given the mess he’s in. Keep walking.’
They were one turn away from the entrance when the others came round the corner. And the hairs on Luke’s arm lifted the minute he saw him.
Gavar Jardine was a monster of a man. Well over six feet tall, with a black leather overcoat falling from his wide shoulders to the top of his leather biker boots. Black gloves.