Zaf's sleep was broken that night for several reasons. The weather was harsh – a fierce wind ripped through the trees and clattered branches against the French windows. Zaf imagined how cold he would be if he were still in that cell, curled up in the corner. At least he now had the luxury of a little warmth, with a multicoloured throw from the sofa and Lucas' jacket, and a cushion tucked beneath his head.
He had slept a little – Zaf suspected that Lucas had slipped a drug into his tea – but the ticking clock on the mantel told him it was 2am when he awoke suddenly, swallowing a scream that had risen in his throat. He had dreamt of his captors looming, an iron rod sizzling into his skin. Zaf rubbed a purpling burn that spread across his forearm and winced.
Lucas, opposite him on the other sofa, had his feet propped up on the coffee table, his eyes closed, a frown etched into his forehead. Zaf was unsure as to whether he was sleeping.
Zaf found it difficult to close his eyes in this strange environment, afraid of what might be lurking out of sight if he were to sleep. This fear nagged at him until he sat up and stumbled from the sofa, checking that all of the windows were closed and the doors were locked. The kitchen was empty, a sliver of moonlight emphasising its isolated state. The tap dripped a steady beat of water. Zaf twisted it shut, catching a glance of a silver knife rack illuminated by the moon, metal glinting. He looked away from the sharp blades and went back into the lounge.
Zaf hadn't stopped thinking about his rescue. At the time he was overwhelmed with relief that it had worked, but this simple delight had turned to worry. It had been planned well by Lucas, who was obviously skilled, but his captors had always been so alert, so ready. Zaf had once witnessed a prisoner trying to escape and heard bones crunching as one of the guards crushed the helpless man into the ground.
Why would it take them so long to get into Zaf's cell and stop him? Why did the one that followed him not chase the car?
Zaf's unease was turning swiftly to panic. He bit down hard on his lip and tried to take slow, steady breaths, his mind flitting back and forth. The panic of the guards. The explosion.
"Shit," Zaf whispered into his hands, rubbing a palm across his eyes to dislodge any sleepiness.
"Lucas," he hissed, nudging the other man with an outstretched foot.
Lucas' eyes snapped open instantaneously and he sat upright. "What's wrong?"
"One of the guards said 'Get this bloody door open now' when I escaped," Zaf explained.
"So?" asked Lucas hesitantly.
"It was put on. I thought I was hearing things, you know, after the blast. My ears were ringing. But I swore I heard laughter." Zaf wringed his hands. "Lucas, I think they wanted me to escape so they could find us here. They knew all along that you planned to get me out last night."
Zaf watched Lucas' face morph into a frown of equal parts of fear and anger.
"Could they have planted a tracker on you?" Lucas whispered steadily.
"I-I don't think so. You?"
Lucas sat back slowly, realisation dawning. "My backpack," he mouthed to Zaf. Lucas stood and brought it from the kitchen into the lounge, taking each item out of it carefully. Zaf noticed the small packet of pills as his eyes brushed the contents. He looked away subtly, searching for the bug.
A tiny black dot clung to the edge of a file. Lucas lifted it between his thumb and forefinger and crushed it, then placed it on the floor and dug his heel into it for good measure. Zaf's eyes drifted from the now inactive device to the file on which it had lurked. He spotted his name.
"Zaf," said Lucas calmly. "If you're right, then this man will try to kill us. And that device could have been a tracker, or a listener. Either way, it won't take them long to figure out that we know."
"We need to leave." Zaf rose to his feet but Lucas grabbed his forearm.
"No, they'll know something's up. They'll want to bide their time. This guy"- Lucas gestured upstairs to the sounds of snoring - "won't be the main person running it; he'll have to wait for further instructions from his boss. We need to act as if we don't know anything."
"He'll kill us," Zaf responded, his eyes wide. "Not just me, he'll get you too." Zaf ran a hand through his hair. "I should have stayed there," he mumbled.
"No." Lucas' voice was strong. "We'll both get out of here. We can take turns sleeping tonight; one of us can keep watch in case our friend does decide to move. In the morning I'll go out into the town to get a signal and call Harry, and get surveillance on the people at the prison. Okay?"
Zaf hesitated. "Okay," he said, even though his voice was trembling.
"Try to sleep," instructed Lucas, waiting for Zaf to lie back down on the sofa before moving his watchful gaze away. Zaf's eyes were fixated on the clock on the mantel, ticking mercilessly, as he counted down the seconds until dawn. Neither man was going to sleep with a killer in the house.
