Nightrise

to prisoner and finally to this…his whole life had been leading him in only one direction. He knew that one day he would slip up and Mrs. Mortlake would get rid of him with the same carelessness that she had gotten rid of Kyle Hovey. But he didn't really think about it. People like him never had long lives. It went with the territory.
    He picked up the telephone on the third ring. 'Yes?" He didn't have to announce his name. The receptionist wouldn't have put the call through unless the caller had asked for him.
    "This is Max Koring."
    "What is it?" Banes recognized the name of the senior supervisor at Silent Creek. He was calling from there now. It was easy to tell. There were no landlines in that part of the Mojave Desert and the satellite reception was poor. The prison had been built in a dead zone, in the middle of a natural magnetic field, making communication almost impossible. The field had other side effects too. The location had been chosen with great care.
    "There's something you should know," Koring continued. "We had something weird happen last night.

    One of the kids — a new arrival — tried to get me to take him over to the Block."
    "What do you mean?"
    "He asked me to take him to the other side of the wall. In fact he didn't ask — he told me, like he expected me to do what he wanted. And he said he wanted to see his brother."
    Banes's eyes narrowed. "What is the boy's name?"
    "The name on his face sheet is Jeremy Rabb." That meant nothing to Banes. "Tell me what he looks like," he said.
    "I don't need to. I thought the moment I saw him that he looked familiar. He's cut his hair short and he's got these thick spectacles, but thinking about it, I figured out who he is."
    "Jamie Tyler?"
    "No doubt about it. I checked with the guy on Intake. He has the same tattoo on his shoulder. A sort of swirly thing with a line through. It's the twin. No doubt about it."
    Colton Banes smiled. First the news last night from Peru…now this. Things couldn't be going better. So Jamie Tyler had decided to track down his brother. And he'd gone to the right place. The trouble was, he'd chosen the wrong time. "Where is he now?" he asked.
    "I've got him in solitary. Do you want me to move him across to the Block?"
    "No." Banes thought for a moment. Once the boy arrived at the Block, he would know he was too late. It would be more fun to keep his hopes alive for the moment. And Jamie Tyler had escaped from him twice. Banes had a personal score to settle. He would let the boy sit there and stew for a few hours and then he would walk in and see the look on his face when he knew that he had failed, that pain and death were all that remained. "Turn off the air-conditioning in his cell," he said.
    "Are you sure?" Even Koring was surprised. "It's a hundred and ten degrees out here. The kid'll fry…"
    "He'll be okay for twelve hours. I'll fly out tonight. I want him softened up before I arrive."
    "He won't be soft. He'll have melted by then. But all right. Whatever you say, Mr. Banes."
    "That's right, Mr. Koring. Whatever I say."
    Colton Banes hung up, then settled back in his leather chair. Suddenly the office didn't seem so bad after all. Outside, the sun was shining. It was going to be a lovely day.
    TWELVE
    The Block
    The heat.
    Jamie had never felt anything like it. Even the theatre in Reno had never been as bad as this. He hadn't heard the air-conditioning unit in his cell switch off but he had felt the result only moments later. The cool air had evaporated instantly. The heat had hit him from every side. He would have said it was like being in an oven except there was no "like" about it. He was in an oven. Baking, slowly, to death.
    He had waited for what felt like an eternity, then had gone over to the door and pressed the call button to summon help. The temperature was already well above a hundred degrees and rising. The sunlight was pounding the outer walls and the roof, and sweat was pouring out of him. His clothes were sodden. He didn't dare breathe too deeply for fear of scorching his lungs. But nobody came. He hit the call button again and then again but he soon realized that it had either been disconnected or he was being deliberately ignored. Was this part of the punishment for what had happened the night before? He doubted it. Although he couldn't be sure, he suspected that this new treatment might signal something much worse.
    He went over to the metal sink — it was already too hot to touch — and turned