The Stronghold

DI Rogers and DS Rogers

Salt hurried down the corridors, looking everywhere. Albin had frightened him and he didn't know what to think. Brother? He didn't have a brother. Did he?

And who calls their children Pepper and Salt?

Grumbling to himself Salt pushed open yet another door to find the Super Glitches sat inside.

"Has anyone seen Pepper?" Salt asked. A sea of blank faces looked back at him.

"Where is he?" Georgina said, frowning. "And Tom?"

"I sent Pepper to fetch Tom and then hopefully they should have come back here," Salt said, beginning to frown too.

"Well they haven't appeared," Sophie chipped in.

"So where are they?" Shaade murmured.

A button on Salt's belt started to beep, flashing orange. He checked the message and turned on his radio.

"S, two men have escaped," the watchmen said. "One was a prisoner, the other an accomplice. The prisoner has the traditional uniform on and the other wears a T-Shirt and jeans. The prisoner is tall and his friend very short with dark hair and eyes. We tried to take them down using grenades but they continued on their way and have stolen two horses."

"Horses!" Amalia and Rebecca squealed simultaneously.

The watchman continued to describe the two escapees and Salt felt a growing sense of dread. By the time the man had finished Salt was certain of who the escaped 'prisoners' were.

"Leave them," Salt ordered in a shaky voice. "The man was supposed to be freed anyway."

"But sir, he killed one of our guards."

The room fell silent as this piece of information crackled through. Salt closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"We'll take care of it," he said, still not opening his closed lids.

"We, sir?"

"I have some... friends here that can take care of them using humane means. So leave them."

"Yes sir." The watchman went offline and Salt took a deep breath.

"Super Glitches," he said, "I know you stopped all that sort of stuff but I need your help."

*

We'd been in the hotel for two days and I hadn't stopped smiling. Sure, my ass was hurting like hell and I still hadn't forgiven Tom for taking my wallet off me but it was fun.

"This is brilliant," I grinned, accepting some sort of cocktail from a waiter gladly. I took a sip and coughed, my eyes watering. As the first drop of alcohol passed my lips my throat began to burn.

Help, I'm dying, I sent to Tom, beginning to panic as the waiter calmly walked away. I was sat at the poolside, the sun beating down on my head. For the first time in what felt like ages I'd been able to relax, to shave and to get a change of clothes.

Sat by the trees with a laptop on my knees I looked like a proper businessman, dressed in a sharp suit. When the sun had reached its peak I had put on a wide brimmed hat and continued with my emails.

But then the waiter had arrived with my long-awaited drink and I'd let my guard down. Having ignored anyone who came over to talk to me, a defensive look in my eye, I was grateful to do something relatively normal.

I wished.

"Right, what's happening?" Tom asked, drying his hair with a towel and walking over. "Are you choking or what?"