Strangelets Read Online Free

master given enough time and effort but was almost ready to declare this one a lost cause.
    Well, at least he hadn’t been shot. Declan wasn’t sure what had landed him here, but there wasn’t a scratch on him.
    As he squinted at the smooth metallic bolt, he puzzled over what had happened. Hard to say what had come over him, reaching out for that light. Simple survival instinct? It had felt like more as he was doing it. Like he’d been chosen for something, and had no choice but to accept.
    Silly bloody nonsense
, he told himself. He’d passed out, and for some reason the Russian had fled. Someone hadprobably stumbled across him unconscious and brought him here. As to his door being locked, and no nurses popping in to check on him … no matter. He was alive, he wasn’t hurt, and soon as this bloody latch gave, he was gone.
    Last time he’d ever take a gig from a stranger, that was for sure. He’d whiled away more than a few hours wondering what inside that feckin’ box had been worth killing for. No knowing now, chalk it up to a life lesson and call it a day.
    He wrestled again with the pin. Fortunately, his pick kit had still been in his pocket when he came to. All his clothes were still on, in fact: jeans, a Pogues T-shirt, and trainers. A bit strange for a hospital, but he was grateful for it. He’d hate to have to walk the streets of Galway with his arse hanging out once he broke free.
    He thought of his mum. After the necklace, he’d have a few euros left to buy her something, too. Maybe that nice electric kettle she’d had her eye on. She’d like that.
    Click
. The door handle turned.
    Declan cast a last glance around the room. Bloody strange place this was. He’d opened the curtains only to discover a solid cement wall—why put in a window, then seal it off completely? Probably built by Poles, they’d taken over all the construction jobs.
    He stepped out into a dimly lit hallway.
    It looked like a standard hospital. More doors like his on the same side of the hall: three to the right that ended in a wall, another two on his left that met a hook in the corridor.
    “Hallo?” Declan called out, stepping forward. Funny, a small voice inside screamed for him to stay in the room where at least he knew what to expect. The Russian might be here too.
But then again, he might not
, he told himself. And there was only one way to find out.
    Declan let the door latch shut behind him. He strode confidently down the corridor, repressing a nervous inclination to hum. First sign of a guard, he’d turn and head back the other way. Maybe they’d locked him in because they knew about the box. He’d been careful not to carry ID, but you never knew. Best not to take any chances.
Right, then. Keep your head down, find the way out, and disappear
. Declan turned at the hook and stopped dead.
    Halfway down the hallway was a small folding table, set smack in the center. Two lads sat at it drinking from bottles of water. They both looked up, startled.
    No one spoke for a minute. Declan sized them up quickly. Too young to be guards, and they weren’t in uniform, either. The blond one looked tall, even seated. He had the wide shoulders of a rugby player, a solid nose, blue eyes—the kind of fella girls always went for. He was clad head-to-toe in Gore-Tex and wore leather walking boots. The other was small, thin, either Paki or Indian with dark brown eyes and hair. Hard to say what he was dressed for, his oversized shorts and T-shirt looked straight out of a rag bin. He wore a shabby pair of sandals on dirty feet.
    Declan broke out his best grin and walked over to them. “Howyas,” he said. “Wondering if you could direct me out of this kip.”
    “Out?” The blond kid snorted and gave him a good once over. He had a thick accent, German or maybe Austrian. “There is no out.”
    “Must be, mate,” Declan said reasonably. He directed his attention toward the Paki, who was regarding him curiously. “If there’s a way