'That's right.'

I went out through the swing-door and crossed the verandah onto the lawn, the scent of the frangipani blossom sweet on the air, and sat on one of the wrought iron seats, where Thelma and I had been sitting earlier, and now it was nine o'clock and the main lights went off, leaving only the pilot lamps burning and the lawn dark, so that from here I couldn't even make out the bird-bath.

25 SILENCE.

There was no moon: it hadn't risen yet above the east wing. But Sirius was bright, its colours changing like a prism in the heatwaves over the city.

People went along the verandahs now and then, a door swinging shut behind them, their footsteps quiet, rubber soles on the wood planking. Silhouettes passed across my line of sight, becoming fleshed out as they neared a pilot lamp. They couldn't see me here at the edge of the darkness.

Wrong.

'Who's that?'

White coat.

I got up, not quickly, but resting my right hand on the back of the iron seat: it would make a good pivoting point, or I could push back from it, gaining speed.

'Jordan.'

He came closer. Stethoscope, clipboard, one of the meds, as distinct from one of the psychs; clinic patois.

'Oh, hello. Taking the air?'

'That's right.' He knew about me, that I didn't have to be in my room at curfew.

'Wonderful scent, isn't it?' He looked up at the trees; he was half in silhouette against a lit window beyond, and half illumined by the nearest pilot lamp. He was all right, name was Hawkins, I was just taking the opportunity of using him as a model. 'Trouble is, the pollen's giving a lot of people hay fever. Let me know if it bothers you - we've got plenty of antihistamine.'

He wandered off, and I noted that his shoes made only the slightest sound on the grass.

Peggy was working the evening shift, Peggy Mitchell, at Reception; I could see her through the window on the west side of the building, and the less distinct figure of the security guard by the doors. In fact security wasn't all that strict; I'd been in the front lobby a couple of times when there was no one at the desk, and the doors weren't locked in the daytime. And anyone could use the little door by the kitchens, as I'd done myself. I suppose it wasn't surprising - all the patients here had come in on voluntary admission.

Sirius had neared the roof of the psychiatric block in the east wing, changing from blue to green to ruby as I watched, listening with my head turned to the right so that sounds coming from the verandah in that direction would reach the right ear full on, for analysis by the left hemisphere; it had been a voice, that was all, a long way off or half-muted by the walls. The doors on that side had all been shut a minute ago and there'd been nobody on the verandah, and what I wanted the left brain to work out as fast as it could was the oddness of the voice; it wouldn't be audible through the closed doors or the walls or windows: I'd been aware of that since I'd come out here; but it had been audible just now, and no one had opened a door, unless they'd done it very quietly for some reason.

Tidal breathing, the better to listen.

There was a sound from behind me, distant, from the verandah, a shoe, I thought, catching on something, anyway it was enough, and I looked away from Sirius and began walking, tired of standing still, needing a little exercise. I walked towards the centre of the lawn, and my shadow thrown by the lamp behind me soon faded out, because here the dark began. I believe Analyse fast - close, was it close, feet, bare feet?

Went on walking, dark now intense, walking, not hurrying, the nape creepingBang of a door, unmistakeable, Jesus Christ can't you relax, you know what it was now, went on walking, lifting my feet to quieten them so that I could hear other things.

'Caroline? Are you out here?'

Shut the door again. Putting the whole thing together, she'd opened a door quietly, not for any particular reason, and the voice in the corridor had been audible until she'd let the door bang shut: it was the swing-door. Then she'd gone in again, did that work, make sense?

God, it was dark here, it was enveloping, like a shroud, and as I walkedWatch it!

Bumped the right thigh, the bird-bath, I'd thought it was further to the left. Went on walking because there was still a chance I'd been wrong and from behind me I'd now be silhouetted against that lamp over there, the moths spiralling round it, gold in the glow.

Reached the iron seat on the far side and turned and looked back, nothing but dark between the distant lamps, my God the adrenalin, I could have jumped clean over the roof, strength of ten men, so forth; well, that's the idea, that's what the stuff is for.

Have a seat, take it easy, the whole thing felt like a firework show, my body, I mean, the nerves flaring and the blood on fire, well, no harm really, we just have to be patient.

Because this was the only way.

It was the only way for several good reasons and I'd given it a great deal of thought and I knew I was right. You don't take major action unbriefed by your director in the field and blow your safe-house and put the mission in gross hazard unless you can justify it later, assuming you survive.

There was, of course, an added factor, not a reason but the necessary impetus: that bitch had become too bloody impudent, coming here to claim my head.

That's really very personal, you know.

Bitch!

Steady, lad, don't take on so, there's a job to do.

Of course, it might not work at all, my little master plan, make me look a bloody lemon, especially in front of poor old Pepperidge, you mean you blew the safe-house just on the fucking off-chance, so forth, every right to be pissed off about it, yes, but it might not come to that, so let's take another little stroll, shall we, it's such a lovely night.

In the course of the next hour I put in some more groundwork and chatted up Peggy Mitchell in Reception, standing at the desk under the bright lights, who's come in tonight, anyone interesting, we never talk about the patients, she said, but not unkindly.

I couldn't talk to David or Thelma because they were in their rooms, but there were a couple of night-nurses snatching a quick cup in the cafeteria, male nurses, these, some good muscle under their green cotton jackets - sometimes one of the patients would go over the edge and try and do something and the male nurses were here for that.

I did the whole square, walking steadily under the lamps along the verandahs, checked my watch two or three times because you wouldn't come out here for a two-hour stroll just for the exercise, have to be waiting for someone, perhaps a new patient due to check in.

Jumpy now, very on edge because of the adrenalin: I could have tossed a caber right out of the field or outrun a train, a taste in the mouth, familiar, the taste of cold steel, all the glands working overtime, triggered by the alarm that had hit the organism, calm down, there's a chance yet, the night is young.

'Is that George?'

'No.' I said, and he peered at me in the half-dark at the edge of the lawn, one of the doctors, moving off again, some kind of panic - he'd come at a trot from the psych-section, fumbling for something in his jacket, I assumed a syringe, rotten life when you come to think of it. He made haste along the verandah and said something to a man coming the other way, white coat again, dark skin, what had the first one told him, anything?

I turned my back on him and started walking into the darkness, making for the centre of the lawn, listening to his footsteps along the verandah, hearing them stop.

Not exactly: he hadn't stopped. He'd moved onto the grass, and I held my head to the right, lifting my feet and breathing tidally; silence, a pool of silence inside the four walls, cutting us off from the city outside, a pool of stillness cold enough to chill the nerves, deep enough to drown in.

I thought I caught the movement of a shadow thrown by one of the lamps, some way off to my right where the darkness bled away to a field of illumination by the verandah; I wasn't sure; I kept on walking slowly, floating feet down through the pool of silence, the ears straining, the hairs lifted on the skin, the organism brought to that pitch of alertness that will make the difference between life and death, between 'Dr Hawkins! She's up here!'

I span and saw them under the lamps, a nurse and the dark-skinned doctor and now the other one, coming back along the verandah with his white coat flapping.

'She's all right, doctor, but I think you should come.'

'Is she conscious?'

'Yes, she's sitting up.'

'Don't worry, then.'

Voices fading out and the slam of a door in the distance.

Sweat running as I came off the high, the organism lurching, trying to find its balance again, the onset of raging thirst. I walked quite fast to the verandah, my legs thrusting me forward, the whole of the musculature avid for movement. The nearest water was in the toilet in C Block and I headed that way, going through the swing-door and down the passage, Men. They normally left the lights on all night in the toilets but this one - oh my God.