Snakehead

generator with a fence running around it, topped with razor wire.
    The last building was the hospital itself, long and narrow with a row of windows covered in mosquito net and a red cross painted on the front door. This was where Alex would be sent when the time came…not once but again and again until there was nothing left of him. The thought made him shiver despite the damp heat of the afternoon, and he turned his head away.
    At first sight, there didn’t seem to be too much security—but then Alex noticed a second fence, this one on the edge of the compound and about ten yards high. It was painted green to blend in with the forest beyond. There were no boats moored to the jetty and no sign of any boathouse, so an escape downriver would be impossible too—unless he swam. And at the end of the day, what would be the point of breaking out of here? He had seen from the plane. He was in the middle of the outback with nowhere to go.
    The two Aboriginals had each clamped hold of one of his arms, and now they led him toward the administrative building. As they reached the door, a young woman appeared, dressed as a nurse. She was short, plump, and blond. She had put on bright red lipstick, which seemed strangely at odds with her starched white uniform. One of her stockings had runs.
    “You must be Alex,” she said. “I’m Nurse Hicks. But you can call me Charleen.”
    Alex had never heard such a broad Australian accent. And what the woman was saying was simply crazy. She was welcoming him as if he might actually be glad to be here.
    “Come right in,” she continued. Then she noticed the handcuffs. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she exclaimed in a voice full of indignation. “You know we don’t need those here, Jacko. Will you please remove them?”
    One of the men produced a key and freed Alex’s hands and feet. The nurse tut-tutted at them, then opened the door and led Alex down a corridor that was clean and simple, with rush matting and whitewashed walls. Fans were turning overhead, and there was music playing somewhere…a Mozart opera.
    “The doc will see you now,” the nurse said brightly, as if he had booked an appointment weeks ago.
    There was another door at the far end, and they went through. Alex found himself in a sparsely furnished room—little more than a desk and two chairs. There was a screen to one side, a small fridge, and a cart with some bottles, a stethoscope, and a pair of scalpels. The window was open, with a view of the jetty from where they had just come.
    A man was sitting behind the desk, dressed not in a white coat but a turquoise open-neck shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans. He was in his forties, with thick blond hair and a craggy, weather-beaten face. He didn’t look like a doctor. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days, and his hands were grubby. There was a glass of beer on his desk and an ashtray with a pile of stubs.
    “Good day, Alex.” He also spoke with an Australian accent. “Take a seat!”
    It wasn’t an invitation. It was a command.
    “I’m Bill Tanner. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other over the next few weeks, so I might as well get a few things clear from the start. Fancy a beer?”
    “No,” Alex replied.
    “You’d better drink something anyway,” the nurse said. “You don’t want to get dehydrated.” She went over to the fridge and produced a bottle of mineral water. Alex didn’t touch it. He had already decided. He wasn’t going to play these people’s game.
    “How was the flight?” Tanner asked.
    Alex didn’t answer.
    The doctor shrugged. “You’re angry. That’s okay. I’d be pretty angry if I were in your shoes. But maybe you should have thought about the consequences before you took on the snakehead.”
    He leaned forward, and Alex knew, with a sense of revulsion, that he had had this conversation many times before. Alex wasn’t the first person to be brought unwillingly to this secret hospital. Others would have sat right where he was sitting now.
    “Let me tell you how this works,” Dr. Tanner began. “You’re going to die. I’m sorry to have to tell you that, but you might as well get used to it. We all have to die sometime, although for you it’s probably a little sooner than expected. But you have to look on the bright side. You’re going to be well looked after. We have a really qualified team here, and it’s in our interests to keep you going as long as possible. You’re going to have a lot of