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the sound, and strained to look at an older man in police armor standing in the doorway. Short silver hair gleamed, backlit from the outdoors, a military cut. He shot a dour frown at the pudgy constable racing to put himself back into his pants. She hung motionless; trembling as if she was the one caught doing something wrong. All she wanted to do was cover herself, but could not lower her trapped hands.
    Despite her fear, she felt relief.
    “Sergeant.” Constable Brown coughed. “Just doin’ a routine search of this scrubber for contraband.”
    “With your John Thomas?” he barked. “I already told you twice, if I catch you at this again, I’ll have you shuttled off to the Orkneys. Get your slovenly arse out of here this instant. That’s the last straw for you, Brown. Out of my sight!”
    The heavyset man scurried off like a hound with its tail betwixt its legs. Annabelle looked away, struggling for a way to keep her composure. The frown on the Sergeant’s face poked at a long-dead sense of dignity. He walked up to her. She cowered, expecting he wanted to take his turn with her first.
    “You all right, luv?”
    “Yes, guv’na. No complainin’ from me.” She pouted at the floor.
Better a dishonest whore than a dead one.
    “Don’t lie to me, girl.” He shook his head with a scowl. “Bugger all. These twats take advantage of you Covs so much you roll over for it. Well, s’pose I’d rather you play possum than shoot at us.”
    The snap of a rubber glove made her jump.
    “Calm yourself, lass. Since you’re already in the posture, I might as well check for illegals, unless you’d like to request a lady constable?”
    “Beggin’ your pleasure, Sergeant. I ain’t hidin’ nothin.’ I got a zoomer in me coat, but that’s all.”
    She felt his stare for a full minute before he spoke. “You’re not lyin’ ta me again, are ya?”
    Her voice sank back to a pathetic squeak. “No, Sergeant.”
    He took the plastic sheet from her jacket. A strip of light gleamed across it as he turned it over. Annabelle squirmed, trying to get her hand on it. He glanced between her desperate eyes and the small, pliant patch.
    “This ‘ere is why you’re stuck in the dustbin.” He flapped it at her. “Never understood what drove you young people to this crap. Most of you are on the tit, and you spend it on this. Are you on the tit, Miss Morgan?”
    “Yes, Sergeant.”
    “Well then, this bit of illegality belongs to the taxpayers.”
    He made a sharp heel turn and walked around the desk, slapping the sheet down at the corner. Anna jumped at the hollow metallic slam. Her lifeline was too far away to grasp with her toes, even if she didn’t have boots in the way. Without the zoom, her mind would run away.
    Things she could not control would happen, and
they
would find her again.
    The Sergeant fell into a chair and waved a hand over the terminal. A rectangular panel of hologram appeared in midair. The part facing her looked opaque black, while reflected amber light crawled over his face from whatever was on the display.
    “Please guv’na, that’s me last one and I don’t have the money for treatment to be off it.”
    He didn’t look up, continuing work at the terminal. A Cov speaking to the police out of turn was a risk; one wrong word could bring disastrous consequences, and she’d wasted them begging for drugs rather than dignity. She frowned at the tight, clingy skirt wrapped around her stomach and lifted a leg in an attempt to cover herself.
    At least he’s not staring at me.
Her head sank.
Prob’ly thinks I’m dirty.
    Anna stretched, trying to will her arms longer to allow more of her weight onto toes that barely reached the floor. Shifting, she hoped a plaintive mewl of discomfort would send him a hint she’d had enough of being chained to the roof, but it had no effect.
    Minutes passed in silence. Again, she glanced up at the shiny metal around her wrists, twisting and pulling in a futile effort to get her