Chapter 4

Over the next few days Jack busied himself investigating his new surroundings. He discovered a multitude of different ways to exercise his muscles whichever position he was placed in. He undertook a thorough study of the construction and materials of the bed and furniture in the room, as well as the room itself. He observed the guards' shift pattern. There was no relief, which Jack considered plain stupid. It was impossible for a guard to keep a 12 hour watch without toilet breaks. Indeed, they took many breaks, and during these he was restrained by all four limbs. At other times he might be allowed to sit, or have one hand free for eating, drinking and his other necessities. (Jasmine had long ago abandoned the 'keep them out of reach' regime - it had simply got too messy for her.) But laxity had set in the guard's habits, and he found himself guarded and restrained less and less as time went by.

Hospital arrangements also interested Jack. A steady stream of cleaners and orderlies came and went, emptying bins and replacing equipment. None of them interacted with him. He got the feeling that the facility was quite large. There was no mistaking the demeanour of the person whose job it was to empty a hundred bins.

The foul stench from the wounds on his back continued, but Jack felt that generally he was doing better. He was wired up to less monitors and was prodded less and less. He noticed they had taken away the fans that cooled him, and he was able to stay awake for most of the day.

It was while Eric was on a ciggie break (that boy smokes too much, thought Jack) that Jasmine entered and announced Jack's blood results had shown vitamin deficiency.

Jack couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at this. He wasn't surprised that he was malnourished, he was simply surprised that anyone cared.

"That reason you recovery very slow."

This Jack could understand. He was taking up valuable resources lying here in the hospital bed. A 24-hour guard is expensive. Cheng is getting impatient.

"We give vitamins." She showed him a bottle, as if the colour of the liquid inside mattered. She put down the medicine spoon she had brought, and tried to open the bottle. It was new and stiff. She tried again, going red in the face. Jack watched impassively – this was the best entertainment he'd had all day, but it wouldn't do to laugh.

Jasmine cursed under her breath in Chinese. She wetted a paper-towel and used it to cushion her sore palms while trying again to open the bottle. Jack held out a hand. Jasmine hesitated before giving him the bottle. Jack crawled up the bed in order to bring his hands together, hoisting himself onto his elbows. He put pressure on the thread and released it on the first attempt. Jasmine made to take the bottle from him, but Jack wasn't letting go. He was stronger than her, he'd just proved that. He watched as a flicker of fear passed over her face, then flicked his eyes to the medicine spoon and back. He calmly screwed the top off the bottle and held out his other hand for the spoon. Then Jasmine understood. He wasn't about to be spoonfed.

It occurred to Jack that he could smash the bottle against the metal bar at the foot of the bed and use a glass shard to slash his carotid. This would be quicker than hanging himself by his blanket from the window-bars of his cell, which he had often contemplated. If he was fast enough, she would have little chance of saving him, even in the middle of a hospital. He visualized his carotid, in the same way he would that of an opponent before knifing him. His blood would spatter on the wall opposite. My way, my choice. Would Teri be there? Mom? Would mom be proud of me? Not for dying for nothing , Jack, she wouldn't be proud of you for that.

"Two spoons," said Jasmine as she handed him the spoon.

Jack measured out and swallowed two spoons of liquid. He replaced the cap on the bottle, giving it an extra twist for tomorrow, and handed it back to her.

She sat down in a chair and put her hands on her knees. She looked nervous.

"I have mother and brother," she said mechanically. "Brother is older. Two years. He work construction. Much construction in China. He manager two teams…" Jack figured she spoke for about 20 minutes, sounding much like an essay prepared for a language class. He listened intently. As suddenly as she had started, she stopped. She sat in silence for what seemed like an age. Jack was about to close his eyes to signal that the conversation had finished when she spoke again.

"They very worried about you. Doctors. How you not speak."

Jack considered. He could give a shrug at this point, but he was not going to give in to emotional blackmail.

"I not understand."

Jack was reminded of something he had seen on the news. It was how politicians replied to each other in the British parliament when they didn't want to say anything. 'I refer the honourable gentleman to the answer given a moment ago.' It was a totally ridiculous thing to say, but they said it over and over until it sounded convincing. How did they do that? Was there a training day or something? Jack let this phrase wash over his body and face.

"Cheng say, when you take metal from pen, you want use it on me. My neck or my eye. Use me as hostage, try to escape. That right, Jack?"

Is she really that afraid of me? She hides it well.

"They not care about me. If you threaten me. They not care."

At this Jack did give the tiniest nod.

"This not right," she spoke very quietly, even though Eric had still not returned, "I tell you, you not tell anyone. You good at that. It not right. Not matter what crime you did in past. Maybe capital punishment right, I don't know. But this – this not right. I tell this to Cheng, I put in prison because what I say." Jasmine reached out and touched his hand.

Sometimes it was hard to keep a face impassive. He moved his hand away from hers and closed his eyes. There's such a thing as too much temptation.