years ago, I looked around at what we had at our disposal, and I made changes. Within two years, this place had become a fortress. No prisoner has escaped in fifteen years. Even attempted breakouts have dropped to almost zero.”
“How did you manage it?” Skulduggery asked, stepping back from the barrier, casting his eyeless gaze to the pipes that ran in crazy zigzags across the high ceiling.
Mien waved his hand again, and the glass sealed over. “You may have noticed a slight flickering on your way in. That was the entire building oscillating between dimensions.”
Valkyrie looked at him. “I’m sorry?”
“As we’re talking here,” Mien said, “we’re travelling through eight dimensions a second. Forty dimensions in all, and then back again. A continuous loop. If anyone were to breach the walls, they’d be torn to pieces and scattered through half a dozen realities. There really is no escape except through the front door. The inmates know this. They know it’s hopeless. Because of that, I’ve been able to cut back on the amount of sorcerers and Cleavers needed to run this facility. We operate with a skeleton staff, if you’ll excuse the expression, Detective.”
“Expression excused,” Skulduggery murmured. “So how do you do it?”
“Ah,” Mien said, laughing, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you.” They started walking back the way they’d come. “Every warden of every gaol around the world has tried to find out, but I’m keeping it to myself for now. It won’t be long before I’m assigned to one of the bigger prisons, though, and maybe then I’ll share the secret of my success.”
Skulduggery looked at him. “An ambitious man, are you, Mr Mien?”
“I suppose you could say that. Nothing wrong with ambition, is there?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Skulduggery said, “so long as it’s channelled the right way.”
“I assure you, all of my ambition is channelled to enable me to better perform my duties.”
They passed through another steel door, and a uniformed man handed Mien a touch-screen device the size of a brick.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Skulduggery said, taking out his phone and stepping away.
Mien took the opportunity to show Valkyrie the device in his hand. “I control the entire building with this,” he said, his fingers tapping and sliding over the screen. “My own design, actually. I hope to get it smaller, but with the amount of power it has to generate this is the best I can do at the moment.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” she asked. “To have everything centralised in something someone could run away with?”
Mien smiled. “I’m the only one who can operate it, and it’s kept here, within the confines of the main facility. I never bring it outside that door. Security is my business, Detective Cain. I know a thing or two about it.”
Skulduggery came back. “It all looks very impressive, I have to say. It’s certainly a unique set-up. Were you told which prisoner we’re here to see?”
“I wasn’t,” said Mien, “but it doesn’t matter. With the protocols I’ve installed, any inmate can be accessible within minutes. Just give me a moment to call up the proper screen... OK. Name of prisoner?”
“Silas Nadir.”
Mien’s fingers hesitated over the device.
“N,” he said. “N... where’s the N? I can’t... can’t find the... Oh, here we are. Nadir. And what was the first name?”
“Silas,” said Skulduggery.
Mien nodded, tapped the name in, and waited.
“Oh,” he said.
Skulduggery tilted his head. “Oh?”
“I’m terribly sorry, it looks like you’ve had a wasted trip. Silas Nadir died two years ago.”
Skulduggery stopped walking. “What?”
“Oh, this is awful,” said Mien. “I’m terribly sorry. He had a heart attack. The staff here weren’t even aware he had a medical condition. He died in his sleep.”
“So why wasn’t his death reported?”
Mien blinked. “It was. I... I’m sure it was. It would have had to have been. Our Chief Medical Officer would have been required to process all of the appropriate paperwork.”
“Can we speak to him?” Valkyrie asked.
Mien looked sheepish. “I’m sorry. Doctor Taper no longer works at this gaol. Can I ask why you wanted to speak with Nadir? Maybe someone else could help you?”
“We needed Nadir,” Skulduggery said curtly. “Do many prisoners die while in your custody, Mr Mien?”
Mien’s look of embarrassment faded quickly as his mouth set into a straight line. “No, Detective Pleasant. They do not.” He started walking again. Skulduggery and Valkyrie kept up.
“How many prisoners have died here in the last year?” Skulduggery asked.
“None. The inmates may be convicted criminals but they are nonetheless entitled to the best care we can provide.”
“How many prisoners have died here in the last ten years?”
Mien bristled. “Three. Nadir and two others – Evoric Cudgel and Lorenzo Mulct. Should I have personally informed you of their deaths as well?”
“Mulct and Cudgel,” Skulduggery said. “Never heard of them. What were they in for?”
Mien turned to them, jabbing irritably at the device. “Mulct was... Mulct was found guilty of multiple counts of robbery. Cudgel was one of Mevolent’s men. Just another low-level sorcerer.”
“And yet,” said Skulduggery, “you remembered the names of these unexceptional inmates without a problem. But when you heard the name Silas Nadir, a notorious serial killer with murders in the double digits, you had to look him up.”
“After a hesitation,” said Valkyrie.
“Indeed,” Skulduggery nodded. “After a very telling hesitation that seemed for all the world like you were frozen for a moment at the mere mention of his name.”
“I’m sorry,” said Mien, “I have no idea what either of you are talking about.”
“What happened to Silas Nadir, Mr Mien?”
“I told you what—”
“And I think you’re lying.”
“This is preposterous. Why would I lie? I’m not a criminal. The criminals are the ones in the cells.”
“The prisoners are the ones in the cells,” Skulduggery corrected. “Criminals can be anywhere.”
“I’m very sorry but I can’t help you,”
