Free Blighted Land: Book two of the Northumbrian Western Series (Northumbrian Westerns 2) by Ian Chapman Page B

walls as we walked along the corridor. The only breaks in the grey concrete were the low, barred windows and bare light bulbs every two metres. Round Up were allowed a much electricity as needed and Nico made sure they got it.  
    I’d not really thought about what I was going to ask Casper. Anyway, I’d work it out as it went along. As usual.
    We turned a corner and Will stopped at a steel door. There was a narrow slit two-thirds up sealed by a metal flap: it was one of the secure rooms, where we stuck troublemakers when they were brought in.  
    ‘This is it.’ Will took out a key and put it in the lock. The mechanism turned with a dull clank. ‘There are two of our men inside with him. I’ll wait outside.’  
    ‘I don’t need the men.’
    ‘Well you’ve got them.’  
    The door swung open. There was no light. The only illumination was from the small window high up on the far wall. Three people stood in the cell: two Round Up men, who I didn’t recognise, and the prisoner, Casper. He had blond hair, cut short, almost shaved. He was in his thirties, a similar age to Becky. His face was bruised and he had a black eye. He looked as if he was having difficulty staying upright. Before the three of them was a table with a seat at either side.  
    ‘This is the interrogator,’ said the Will.  
    I went in and he left, shutting the door behind him.  
    One of the guards watched Casper but the other one just stared ahead. At the locked door.
    I approached Casper, trying to ignore them.  
    Normally we did Round Up interviews two on one. Prisoner versus good cop and bad cop. Sometimes bad cop, bad cop. I didn’t like having the two guards in the cell.
    ‘I’m Trent,’ I said.  
    Casper didn’t react. I thought about repeating it, but then he looked at me, one eyebrow raising.
    ‘I just want to chat. Ask a few questions.’
    He nodded but lowered his head again.
    ‘Can he sit?’ I said to one of the men, the fella staring into space.
    The other one answered for him. ‘We were told to keep him standing.’
    ‘He needs to sit. So I can quiz him.’
    He glanced at his companion. For a second they seemed to communicate with minor facial expressions. ‘I suppose so,’ he said.
    They nudged Casper forward and he stumbled into the chair, resting his elbows on the table, sighing. I sat opposite, leaning back in my seat. The two men were rigid behind him, as if something was going to happen.
    ‘You two can go. I’m fine here.’
    The same guard replied as before. ‘We were told to stay.’
    ‘At least go over to the wall. Give us some space.’
    Again they looked at one another, did that mind-reading thing. After a moment they moved towards the door and stood each side of it.
    ‘Well, Casper,’ I said in a loud voice. ‘I guess you know what this is about.’
    His head was in his hands and he leant forward.
    ‘I’m just here to chat. Ask questions.’
    He looked up. ‘Is that so?’ His voice was sharp, gruff.
    ‘Yes, questions.’ I leant forward and wrote BECKY on the piece of paper.  
    This got him. He straightened up, grinned at this, a mean smile, as he eyed me. Under Becky’s name I wrote SHE’S IN TOWN. SAFE.
    I raised my voice. ‘I need to know where you came from; why are you here; who you work for?’
    ‘Oh yeah?’
    There was one last test for him. And her. I wrote: MOLE.  
    He smiled and tapped his chest, beside his left nipple. Then he sat back, arms crossed. Smug.
    ‘So,’ I said, louder. ‘What brought you here?’
    ‘Just passing through.’
    ‘Passing through to where?’ I had to get something from him. Something to give Nico. Keep him off my back.
    ‘Somewhere else.’
    ‘We need to know where you were going; where you came from?’
    ‘Oh?’ He sighed and fidgeted but said no more.  
    ‘What about your vehicle? The tank?’
    ‘Tank?’ Then nothing.
    ‘Tell me how you got it; how it works?’
    ‘Seriously?’
    I put my elbows on the table. So did he. Now we were face