Page 76 of The Final Vow (Washington Poe #7)

The Rubicon was a box-shaped room, about the size of a squash court.

It was named after a river in north-eastern Italy.

The Rubicon was the river Julius Caesar crossed without disbanding his army.

Generals were required to disband their armies before entering Italy, and Caesar deliberately choosing not to made armed conflict unavoidable.

The resulting civil war led to Caesar becoming dictator perpetuo , dictator for life.

Crossing the Rubicon was now an idiom for passing the point of no return.

And that’s because he was tethered to his side of the room.

A wire rope was secured to the back of the leather jacket into which he’d been locked.

The wire rope was attached to a steel bar that ran the length of the wall on the left.

The steel bar looked like a ballet barre.

The wire rope wasn’t fixed in place. It was on a ring that moved along the steel bar the same way curtains move along a curtain pole.

Poe was free to walk anywhere in his own half of the Rubicon, but he could not cross the red line.

The wire rope wasn’t long enough. Poe could choose to stand, or he could sit in the plastic chair provided.

The other side of the Rubicon was the mirror image of Poe’s, the only difference being that Bethany’s chair was bolted to the floor.

Everything was a weapon.

Poe tested his restraints. They were solid.

There was no way he could step into the other side of the room.

He felt as if he was in a Hannibal Lecter movie.

Bradshaw had made him watch Red Dragon when they started working together.

She’d said it was about the hunt for a serial killer named the Tooth Fairy, and that he might find it useful.

Poe hadn’t. Real serial killers weren’t that flamboyant.

Shaun the guard tugged on the wire rope again.

When he was satisfied, he went into a well-rehearsed speech.

‘Don’t try to touch Miss Lang. If Miss Lang slides something across the floor, don’t pick it up.

If Miss Lang starts to spit, go to the back of the room and wait.

If you have any doubts at all, raise your hand.

We will be watching. Our response time is supposed to be eight seconds. We have it down to four.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Poe said. ‘Clara and I go way back.’

Shaun the guard grunted but didn’t respond.

‘One more thing,’ Poe said. ‘No sound.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘What Clara and I are about to discuss is highly sensitive. No one can listen to what we talk about.’

‘You’re the boss,’ Shaun said. He left the room. The door shut behind him.

After five minutes it opened again. Two guards walked in and stood either side of the door.

Two more walked in and stood in front of Poe.

They were wearing protective clothing; the kind prison officers wear when they have to extract combative inmates from barricaded cells.

They also wore neck guards. Sensible when the patient had werewolf-like throat-ripping capabilities.

A minute later Doctor Clara Lang entered the Rubicon.

She was escorted by four guards. They led her to the other side of the Rubicon.

She took in the room in a single glance.

She nodded in approval. It seemed she liked it.

She was already wearing her leather jacket.

She watched as they tethered her to her own wire rope.

Just as they had with Poe, they tugged on it to make sure everything was secure.

Clara was a slight woman with long dark hair and a butterwouldn’t-melt expression. Pale with haunted eyes, as if she didn’t sleep, and when she did, she didn’t like what she saw. Poe knew the feeling well. He didn’t like going to sleep either. She stood still until the guards had left the room.

The moment the door clanged shut, Bethany, because surely only Bethany could walk like that, began prowling her side of the do not cross line like a caged tiger.

She didn’t make it obvious, but Poe could tell she was testing her restraints.

Just as he had. She licked her lips. Her sharpened teeth sliced into her tongue.

She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and smiled at the blood.

‘Hello, Sergeant Poe,’ she said. ‘It’s been a while.’