The Horse at the Gates Read Online Free Page B

Relocation Centre sprawled into the distance, a seemingly endless landscape of prefabricated flat rooftops marching toward the dark horizon. The two-storey structures covered the disused runways, the aprons, the taxiways, the grass verges, crammed together into every available space. Halogen lamps clustered on steel towers glowed above the rooftops, rain sweeping through their bright shafts of light. The nearest accommodation blocks were five hundred yards away, curving into the distance in line with the well-lit perimeter fence. Rubbish piled against the chain link and strands of material fluttered in the wind, caught in the crown of razor wire that topped the fence. Distant lights glowed in the old terminal buildings.
    Bryce turned away from the window, pulling off his overcoat. He was dressed casually, grey slacks and a black turtleneck sweater. ‘Quite a sight when you see it up close,’ he remarked.
    Davies hung his coat on a stand behind the door. ‘You should see it in daylight. It’s more like a city.’ He took a seat behind his desk, inviting Bryce and Ella into empty chairs opposite.
    ‘Looks deserted out there,’ Bryce observed.
    ‘Friday’s a busy day for the population here. Prayers, followed by all sorts of meetings and sit-downs. The main arrivals hall in Terminal Five is being used a mosque, as are the ones in the other terminals, plus there are several more scattered around the site. We’ve estimated they’re cramming in between five and ten thousand in each of the main buildings, nose to socks.’
    There was a tap on the door and an Asian man entered, a tray of coffee and biscuits held before him. He wore a navy Border Agency fleece zipped up to the chin, partly obscuring his wispy beard. He nodded politely, while Davies cleared a space on his untidy desk and began pouring the coffee. Bryce shot a look at Ella as the man backed out of the room. Davies caught the exchange as he passed around the mugs.
    ‘Don’t worry, Taj is my right-hand man, one of my senior interpreters. Very high clearance.’ The security chief leaned back in his chair. ‘Well, you can see the operation has grown immeasurably since you were last here. As I explained on the phone, we’re struggling to cope.’
    Bryce sipped at the steaming liquid as he registered the untidy mess of papers on Davies’ desk. Behind him, a high spec printer beeped continuously, spitting out sheets of paper. ‘I was aware of a certain level of pressure on resources here, Mr Davies, but nothing like you described during our conversation.’
    ‘The place is falling apart, Prime Minister. To all intents and purposes we’ve lost control.’ Davies unlocked a desk drawer and removed a single sheet of paper. He handed it to Bryce. ‘This is why I couldn’t talk on the phone.’
    Bryce gave Davies a puzzled look, then began to read:
    Originator: DAVIES, Michael, Chief of Operations, Border Agency, Heathrow Relocation Centre, Middlesex. CONFIDENTIAL SECURITY INCIDENT REVIEW – NOT FOR CIRCULATION – EYES ONLY.
    12-01: 661/541: Female stoned to death by large crowd of male assailants between blocks 227 & 228, sector 14.
    11-02: 1025/445: Two security officers seriously assaulted in sector 09 during routine patrol. Personal protection equipment, swipe cards and radios stolen.
    29-03: 256/091: Teenage girl doused with flammable liquid and set on fire outside maternity unit at Terminal 2. Three family members detained. Released due to lack of evidence.
    27-05: 199/472: Male killed during large disturbance at wedding ceremony in Terminal 4.
    22-08: 088/190: Two males found gagged, bound and hung in washroom in block 17, sector 3. Murdered by unknown assailants for alleged homosexual activities.
    Bryce looked up, his face pale. ‘These incidents happened here?’
    Davies crunched on a biscuit and nodded. ‘All in the last eight months. I assumed you knew because detailed reports of each incident were sent to both my own superiors and to Minister