Silent Voices Read Online Free PDF Page A

and failing to smile. He hurried the rest of the way to the car, and once he was inside he locked the doors before starting the engine.
    He’d be home soon. In half an hour he’d reach Morpeth. From there it was less than twenty minutes to the Concrete Grove, where God knew what was waiting for him.
    The Angel receded in his rear-view mirror as he drove further north. It did not move, nor did it register his departure. It was just a hunk of metal parts. A grim angel of broken promises standing at the border of a land whose dreams had always been dark and restless.

CHAPTER THREE
     
     
    B RENDAN WAS DOING the hourly rounds. His lower back ached from sitting in his chair and he was feeling sorry for himself because of the way Jane had been acting earlier that evening, but the work had to be done. The work always had to be done.
    He walked one more circuit of the Needle, feeling the rash across his shoulders bristle as he stepped into the tower block’s night-time shadow, and then turned back towards the squat, modular grey shell of the Portakabin that served as the on-site security station. The stars looked impossibly tiny in the black night sky, and the moon hung there like a polished silver coin left underwater: vague, almost ghostly.
    Brendan heard a sound behind him, coming from the tower block. He turned, waving his torch at waist level so that the beam skittered across the base of the structure. Nothing moved. He saw rampant weeds hugging the concrete, debris and litter on the uneven ground, and a lot of building material that had been dumped over the years when previous refurbishment or development projects had been abandoned.
    The sound came again. This time it was louder, and he thought that he might be able to pinpoint its source. One of the ground floor windows – the ones with steel security shutters over them. Several of the shutters had been replaced when the site was shored up and the perimeter fence erected, but others had been randomly removed. He wasn’t sure why; it seemed a silly thing to do, especially in this rough and rundown area, where putting up a barrier was tantamount to an invitation to break and enter for the local street kids.
    “Hello?” He felt stupid saying it, but what else could he have called?
    There was no reply.
    Brendan walked slowly towards the Needle, his torch beam slicing through the darkness to illuminate parts of the whole: a sealed door, a barred window, a cracked wall, a plastic bin leaning against a pile of bricks.
    “This is private property. I’m legally obliged to remove you from the premises.” More empty words. He wished that he had a dog with him, but the security firm wouldn’t pay for him to do the dog-handling training, even though he’d asked them countless times. When he’d asked for a partner to accompany him on the night shift, his boss had just laughed and told him to “man up” and “grow a pair.”
    They were real investors in people, Nightjar Security Services...
    Hearing nothing but the late-night urban lullaby of barking dogs, distant voices and revving engines, Brendan moved closer to the side of the building. He flashed his torch across the wall, looking for an aperture by which someone might have gained entrance to the place. The graffiti was illuminated briefly: swear words and sex words and obscure gang tags sprayed in blood-red paint. None of the security shutters had been interfered with; everything seemed secure. He walked along the wall, then turned and advanced along the side of the Needle. He did another complete circuit before finally coming to a halt beside the main doors.
    Brendan stepped forward and tried the handle. He wasn’t expecting the door to open, so when it did he simply stood there, staring at his hand as it pulled the door wide.
    “Shit,” he muttered, wondering if he had forgotten to lock it.
    Now that he’d discovered the way in, he knew that he couldn’t walk away without inspecting the interior of the