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‘Answer it,’ I whispered. ‘Get rid of her.’
    ‘How?’ he asked.
    ‘I don’t care – just do it.’
    He stared at me for a second, then started moving towards the door. I followed him across the room and stood with my back against the wall. He looked at me again. I levelled the gun at his head.
    ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ I warned him. ‘If she gets in here, you’re dead.’
    He blinked once, took a deep breath, then unlocked the door and opened it a little way. ‘Yes?’ he said confidently, peering through the gap.
    ‘What’s going on?’ I heard Hayes say. ‘Where’s Ryan? I need to see him.’
    ‘Not now,’ Casing told her, his voice spiked with arrogance. ‘We’re busy.’
    ‘I need to talk to him about –’
    ‘We’re busy,’ Casing snapped. ‘Come back later.’
    Hayes didn’t say anything for a moment, and in the silence I imagined her mind ticking over – assessing what Casing had just said, wondering if she should accept his authority or not. As I kept my eyes fixed on Casing, hoping his confidence would hold up, I could feel something inside me – my heart? – pumping hard.
    Then I heard Hayes say, ‘Tell Ryan that Morris is with Peter Young. Tell him it’s under control. And give him these.’
    I held my breath as Casing nodded and reached out to take something from Hayes, and I listened hard, willing her to turn round and leave. I heard the scuff of a shoe… a single step… a slight pause… then the slap of busy footsteps disappearing down an empty corridor.
    I breathed out.
    Pete’s here, I thought to myself for a moment. Pete’s here, Pete’s here, Pete’s here…
    But I knew it didn’t mean anything.
    Pete was nowhere. A million miles away.
    Casing closed the door and passed me a tattered brownfolder. His arrogance had gone again now. His eyes were full of self-pity. ‘Your records,’ he said wearily.
    I took the folder from him and put it in the briefcase with the rest of the stuff.
    ‘Lie down on the floor,’ I told him.
    He looked at me.
    I stared back at him.
    He lowered himself to the floor.
    I turned to Kamal. ‘Anaesthetize him.’
    While Kamal crouched down and stuck a needle in the back of Casing’s hand, I put on the surgeon’s white coat and hung his surgical mask round my neck. A dull pain gripped my stomach for a moment, like the jab of a short blunt knife. It didn’t hurt very much, but it felt really weird – as if it didn’t quite belong to me. It felt like someone else’s pain… but inside me.
    I didn’t want to think about it.
    I closed my eyes. Breathed in, breathed out.
    I was so tired now. Drained and exhausted. I didn’t want to do this any more – acting tough, ordering people around, trying to keep control… it was too hard. I didn’t want to do anything. All I wanted to do was sink down to the floor and go to sleep. Go to sleep, wake up in the morning and start all over again. But I knew I couldn’t. I had to get out of that room. Get out. Get out. Go somewhere else. If I didn’t, I might as well be dead. And I didn’t want to be dead.
    When I opened my eyes again, Kamal was standing over Casing’s unconscious body, looking at me.
    ‘Have you got a car?’ I asked him.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Where is it?’
    ‘In the car park.’ He waved his hand. ‘At the back.’
    ‘How far is it? How do we get there from here?’
    ‘This is the basement,’ he explained. ‘There is a back exit, a fire door. The car park is just outside.’
    ‘Can we get out without being seen?’
    He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know who is here. These people… I don’t know.’
    I really didn’t care any more. I just wanted to go. Get out of that room. Go somewhere else.
    I grabbed the briefcase from the table and took one last look at the scene I was leaving behind: three unconscious bodies, a trolley, machinery, instruments… madness. I went over and emptied the tray of scalpels and needles into the briefcase, then beckoned Kamal