THE COURT DAGGERS

Prologue

Jeffrey Dracup moved around in the darkness. His head throbbed. It had been one big throb since he had been sentenced for manslaughter by his peers. Twelve blank faces. He hated every one of them. He sat down, breathing slowly trying to keep from puking. It was pitch black and the smell was toxic. Where had that guard brought him? One hand brushed against a wall, the other touched nothing but air. He moved towards freedom. Then one hand hit the low ceiling. It didn't help that he was six foot tall. Had that prison guard just left him to rot? He could die and never be discovered. Someone was trying to punish him. Cause him pain but also fear.

What did that legal aid lawyer say to him once he'd been sentenced?

"Don't want to bump into you again mate and I mean that in a nice way!"

His mutilated right hand ached badly but he willed the pain away. He was an expert at enduring all sorts of pain, both physical and mental. He could be one of those sly types who like to pretend they know nothing while all the time they have an incisive grip on events.

He listened, bending his knees to his chest. His chained fingers grazed against something half buried in the wall. It was sharp and slender. It was metallic. He could use it as a weapon. He couldn't get to it.

***

Professor Krishan Hardy loved to experiment. It was the sense of danger and the unexpected he craved. He loved to move from experiment to experiment, testing his theories. He had tested his new chemical formula as much as he could on animals. Now he had the means of testing on people. Why did it matter that they didn't consent, they were criminals? When he had tried to explain his scientific findings to other medical professionals, he was considered a joke, an unfocused lunatic. The other scientists avoided him. What did they know? What else was there for him to do but carry on in his own way using his own methods? The future of science depended upon people like him. He had an inbuilt curiosity into how the body functioned. His experiments were ferocious. He had a raw, naive attitude towards his subjects.

"They're not exactly volunteers Kris," his brother Roger Hardy, prison guard for Tate court declared when he compared his brother to Frankenstein. He had lost count of the number of criminals he had made available for his brother to experiment upon. He had a high opinion of his brother.

Kris put his brother on speaker.

"This one is in for manslaughter and assault."

"Just don't let him eat or drink anything for at least two hours until I get there."

"Okay boss."

In the last three months, Kris had received few criminal patients. It seemed the supply of the worst criminals was drying up in Yorkshire. Kris had already decided to inject two hundred percent of the necessary dosage into the next criminal's body. If his experiment went to plan, this could be the greatest scientific breakthrough the world had ever seen. He had three vials of the prototype drug inside his black case. As far as he was concerned, he was testing on thugs, this is what they deserved. They wanted to destroy the lives of others and tear families apart. This drug would save lives. The criminals could be part of this. He had spent his entire life coming up with a solution. He couldn't falter now.

It was slightly late, but the air was still fresh outside Tate court. The emptiness around the usually bustling courthouse struck him as infinitely pathetic as his brother opened up the back door for him. Headlights swept across them as a van went past at speed.

"Hi, come in. This one is a particularly nasty piece of work. He stabbed a man and his wife after a row over a parking space. Stabbed the man twenty times in rage, to his untimely death," his brother explained as he unlocked the security door. Kris was scarcely interested. They descended into the worst part of the prison. The unused prisoner cells in the court cellar. As soon as he entered, the stench was overwhelming. He moved towards his patient with the cunning of a cat. A loud clang echoed as Roger unlocked the door to the prisoner's cell. Jeffrey Dracup was too restless to settle or oblige. He fought the restraining chains like a mad man as they both pulled him to the ground. His eyes were glazed. He was a large man, aged about forty with spiky greyish brown hair.