ix by six from wall to wall, no barred window. The only source of light came from a single fluorescent strip that was set in a ceiling, 9-feet high, recessed by another foot and covered in three inch plasiglas and a buzzing electrified cage; there would be no suicides or home-made weapons here.

 

The security system was the best that had ever been created. Networked to a computer system that had infallibility programmed into its core programming, each room consisted of no less than six separate scanning camera ( all expertly hidden, naturally ). Each camera was then linked to the system, but independently from the others, so if one went down, that would be the only one that went down.

 

Eight concurrent back-up systems worked in total unison. A system cash would knock the whole set-up down for less than one-thousandth of a second, and then it would be up and running again. Escape and all its thesauri permutations were words long lost here. The perfect system of imprisonment that was totally and utterly impervious to any attempts to shatter its flawlessness.

 

The Governor spent three hours on the stand trying to explain to the judicial review body, selected to get to the bottom of this unspeakable breach of security, just how it was possible for all the cameras in one cell to be totally blanked for one minute, and how in that time, the light-covering electrification grid had been switched off and then restarted, only rewired to the frame-work of the cell door and how an escape had been made. But for all the facts he had at his disposal, a explanation, no matter how irrational, could not be found, by anyone.

 

 

he fog crept down, down and filled the concourses and alleyway, cascading over the street and disguising the chimney-soot blackened grotesque that was Victorian London.

 

The slums were alive - breathing, pulsating filth, ragged curtains over dirty windows, the grin houses packed to the rafters with the detritus of the town that formed the backbone of the industrial workforce of the city, feeding large families that had to compensate for the high infant mortality rate.

 

The noise and shouts from the public houses filled the night air. Hardly a soul moved on the street, beyond the odd brave rat edging from the stinking darkness to claim a prize from the rubbish and shit filled gutters.Another sound. A dragging sound...moving. Detaching itself from the darkness of the deserted alley came a figure of a man. His back was severely arched. his left arm hanging limply and lower than it should have. Saliva pooled at his bottom lip, spilling down the grimy shirt. Two dark eyes gave up nothing but twin flicking pinpoints of light as they flicked around the street, making sure that the way was clear so he could get across the cobbled road and back into the darkness of another backstreet alley opposite.

 

The scrape of glass on brick.

 

The figure scuttled back into the darkness, encapsulated by the shadows.

 

A young woman staggered up the road, her right hand holding a black shawl around her head and shoulders, her left holding a empty bottle that brushed the wall as she staggered up the street, the reek of cheap booze following her like a sickly perfume. She was laughing t herself, her wooden soled boots scraping along the cobbles as she made her way home.

 

The corner of her eye caught movement to her right. She turned slowly and squinted into the dark alleyway opposing her, trying to distinguish anything in the thick night. Tottering on wobbling legs, she walked over the road. There was someone watching her…