tricks designed for the weaker sex up her sleeve, not that she was much weaker than him. They were techniques rather than skills, such as knowing how best to strike at weak points. She was also confident that she was fitter than him.
Had Christine known Mandrick’s pedigree, the numerous African battlefields that he had fought on, conflicts she could hardly imagine, she would probably never have entered the room. There was a world of a difference between skills learned in a dojo and those acquired in battle while fighting for one’s life. More importantly, Mandrick knew what it was like to kill and, worse still for her, he had never lost the taste for it.
She decided to strike first, which suited Mandrick as he was more adept at countermoves. She lunged at him with a dummy kick intended to bring his hands low so that she could punch him in the throat. But he stepped aside and parried her fist with a calm ease that took her by surprise. She went for a straight kick to his shin. He avoided it and lunged at her but she caught his hand and tried to turn the wrist in. He took her feet away from under her with a side-sweep and she almost fell on her back. But as he came in to take advantage of her lost balance and grab her hand she elbowed him in the face with her other arm. Mandrick went back, reeling a little from the blow and looking at her with malice. Christine was confident that if she could keep this up she just might take him. But Mandrick had home-field advantage.
He lured her forward as he stepped backwards, feigning fear and weakness, dodging attack after attack, blocking where he could as if he was retreating. On the wall behind him was a large air pipe with an opening at chest height that had a mesh grille across it. The warden’s office was the only room in the facility apart from the OCR that had a manual air-pressure control. It was an emergency feature, an override that allowed the operator to rapidly increase or decrease the pressure in the room either to open the door or prevent it from being opened.
Mandrick put his back to the pipe so that he knew exactly where he was. As Christine came in for another blow he took a step forward, trapped her arm, pulled her around, slammed her back against the pipe and threw a lever on the side of the vent. There was a sudden rush of air that reached an immediate and painful pitch. Before Christine realised what was happening her back was sucked against the mesh. She twisted violently in an effort to free herself but was stuck like a fly to sticky paper.
Mandrick stepped back, feeling his bruised face and taking his time about it. ‘Now it’s my turn.’
As Christine struggled to reach behind her back for the valve handle Mandrick punched her on the side of her face as hard as he could. The blow knocked her almost unconscious. Her knees nearly gave way and she could only watch as he drew his fist back for another punch. This time he changed its direction and struck her in the gut. It struck so hard and low that she almost threw up. He followed through with a knee to her groin, then grabbed her by her throat and held her windpipe tightly, squeezing it until she began to choke.
‘I’m not interested in who you work for,’ Mandrick hissed between clenched teeth.‘That should worry you.’ He slammed his elbow into the side of her face and she went limp. Unable to focus properly she fought to stay conscious.
‘It would be churlish of me not to take full advantage of the situation, don’t you think?’ he said, ripping open her shirt to reveal her bra. He squeezed her breasts. ‘Very firm . . . Fortunately for you I’m not into necrophilia.’
A buzzer sounded above the hissing of air.
‘For Christ’s sake,’ he muttered.
The buzzer went again soon after and he looked at the monitor to see that it was Doctor Mani. He hit the intercom on his desk. ‘What is it?’ he asked, still slightly out of breath.
‘Mr Mandrick? I have something very important to show you.’
‘Can it wait? I have my hands full.’
‘I think you would be very angry with me if I said yes. This is most important or I would never dream of insisting.’
Mandrick sighed and straightened his clothes.‘I guess it just wasn’t meant to be,’ he said, turning the vent lever back into the neutral position. The air stopped hissing, releasing Christine who hit the floor like a sack of vegetables. Mandrick pressed the entry button on the desk and the door opened.
Mani hurried inside.
‘What do you want?’ Mandrick said, feeling his nose.
Mani paused on seeing Mandrick’s somewhat dishevelled appearance but quickly put any disquiet aside and focused on the urgency of his visit. ‘Sir,’ he began but stopped in his tracks as he saw Christine lying on the floor. ‘Dear God,’ he exclaimed, hurrying over to her. ‘What happened?’
Mandrick was more concerned about his swollen nose and its blocked airways. ‘We had a disagreement,’ he said nasally.
The doctor looked confusedly between Mandrick and Christine, noticing now that her shirt had been torn open.
‘She’s a spy - FBI, probably - trying to steal something, I expect. She’s one tough bitch, I’ll say that for her,’ Mandrick added, feeling his cheekbones again.
‘What did you do to her?’ the doctor asked, his tacit disapproval obvious as he inspected Christine’s bruised face and checked to see if she was breathing.
‘Christ’s sake, Mani, she attacked me. Just because she came off worse doesn’t mean I’m the bad guy.’
The doctor shook his head. The girl appeared to be OK apart from a possible concussion. ‘I’ll have to get her to the hospital.’
‘Do what the hell you want with her . . . What was so important?’
The doctor had almost forgotten. Quickly, he got to his feet and reached into a pocket. ‘This was inside that Afghan they brought in,’ he said, taking out the plastic bag with the card inside.
Mandrick took the bag and inspected it. ‘Durrani?’
‘That’s right. It was in his abdomen. It had been placed there surgically.’
‘Any idea what it is?’ Mandrick asked, in case the doctor had an opinion different from his own.
‘We thought it was a memory card of some kind.’
‘We?’
‘Gann was with me when I found it.’
Mandrick took the device out of the bag and examined the embossed gold circuitry, agreeing with the assessment. ‘Anyone else know about this? Hank, for instance?’
‘I came right here.’
‘And Gann?’
‘He was going on about that prisoner, Charon - the one who survived the ferry accident. I think he went to talk to him.’
‘Talk, eh?’ Mandrick muttered to himself. ‘Yeah, I bet.’ He checked his watch. Things were stacking up rapidly to push him in one direction: a dead FBI agent, a panicking Forbes, a threatening Hank, an unconscious prison inspector, and now this memory card or whatever it was. It was clearly important and unknown to the CIA. Perhaps it was the insurance he was looking for. Hank was interested in Durrani for a reason, and so was Charon who, just to add to matters, was probably about to die at the hands of Gann if for no other reason than that he’d witnessed the ferry sabotage. Mandrick could not risk Hank finding out about the chip, whatever it was, and Gann could not be relied upon to keep his mouth shut. It was time to go.
‘I’ll be honest with you, Mandrick. I’m beginning to feel very uncomfortable with this whole set-up down here . . . It’s beginning to feel like a powder keg about to blow.’
‘You’re a very perceptive man,’ Mandrick said.
‘The company would warn us if things were going to go wrong, wouldn’t they?’
‘I think the signs would be there for all to see.’
‘I’ll take my lead from you, then.’
‘You see me jump, you go right ahead and jump too,’ Mandrick said, with a sarcastic smile.
Mani nodded.‘What about that?’ he asked, indicating the memory card.
‘You think I should take it to the FBI?’
‘Why not? Insurance.We need to start thinking about protecting ourselves.’
‘Quite right.’
Christine moaned.
‘I’d better get her to the hospital,’ Mani said, crouching beside her. ‘Come on. Up you get.You’ll be fine. Help
