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hanging, doc?’
    Cook jumped at the muffled, tinny sound coming from the pocket of his white coat. He checked his diver’s watch. 02.03 already
     and he’d forgotten to check in. Pulling the walkie-talkie out, he pressed the transmit button.
    ‘Sore, but satisfied,’ he said. ‘Hey, remindme to tell you about it sometime.’
    Bill Carmody’s Texas twang became more pronounced. ‘You got me curious now, son. We got ourselves some stuff to catch up on.’
    Cook grinned down at the comatose form on the bed. ‘Give you something to look forward to an hour from now.’
    ‘Juicy, huh?’
    ‘Maybe more than you can handle.’
    Carmodychuckled. ‘Okay, son. Don’t let me down now.’
    ‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ Cook said and put the radio back in his pocket.
    Man, he was shattered. He’d picked up a babe called Leona at a bar in Elmshire and finally managed to break free of her a
     couple of hours before his shift. That girl had definitely shown him a trick or two. Although she hadn’t been as enthusiasticabout the facial hair. Maybe he’d shave off the goatee and surprise her next time he saw her.
    He bent down to check the sleeping figure’s pulse and then raised the man’s sole eyelid, flashing his penlight at the pupil.
     Still dilated. Still no reaction. Too bad, Alvin Farrell.
    Alvin had been brought in two weeks before with a crackedskull and a hole where his left eye used to be. As usual, Cook hadn’t
     bothered to check his med sheet and put him straight on morphine. It was only when the patient failed to wake up after three
     days that he noticed the hand-written notation at the bottom of the allergies section:
Possibility of relapse if opium-based sedatives introduced into patient’s system
. He figured a comaqualified as a relapse.
    Leona might have been troubled to learn of two similar incidents involving her new lover over the past year. Alvin could make
     it three if he didn’t wake soon.
    Cook shrugged. Shit happened. At least in the prison system the repercussions were minimal. Almost non-existent, in fact.
     The outside world forgot thesedregs existed as soon as they arrived, so why lose sleep over the one or two who got lost along
     the way? Still smiling, he patted the patient on the shoulder and moved towards the man in the other bed.
    James Bishop was still in the same position as when he’d checked an hour before. Not that he would have been able to move
     much even if he wanted. His rightwrist was cuffed to the bed railing on Cook’s orders. Guy was some kind of badass ex-bodyguard
     in for life on a triple murder charge, and Cook thought it best to take precautions. ‘Better safe than sorry’ was a good rule
     to live by in here.
    Somebody had really gone to town on Bishop. The guards had brought him in last night, bloody and unconscious with severebruising
     to the body. His stomach resembled a slab of week-old raw meat. There was probably internal haemorrhaging but Cook wasn’t
     ready to cut him open and investigate just yet. Past experience had made him a little nervous about that sort of thing. He’d
     given the guy some painkillers and was content to let nature take its course for the time being. Bishop would eitherregain
     consciousness or he wouldn’t. Then he’d decide.
    Cook studied the man’s features. He seemed about the same age as himself. Thirty-three, maybe a couple of years older, but
     his face had developed lines and character that Cook’s lacked. His gaze travelled down to Bishop’s throat. That was odd. He
     could swear Bishop had come in with a fat, polishedBuddha around his neck. Previously, patients would only be admitted to
     the infirmary building once they’d been relieved of all personal items. But thanks to pressure from the prison’s Muslim population,
     non-metallic religious totems were now permitted.Still, maybe one of the guards had liked the look of it and taken it for himself. It wouldn’t be the first time.
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