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pondering the pros and cons, she shook her head. She wasn’t sure how Pieter would react – he might go ballistic – and anyway, if anything came of today’s endeavour, a small part of her was hoping he’d be suitably impressed at her initiative.

Before she could change her mind Kaatje exited the cubicle and went over to the row of sinks. Quickly grabbing a handful of paper towels from the dispenser on the wall, she scrunched them up into a tight bundle and put them into the sink, and then dug around in her shoulder bag for her cigarette lighter. Casting one last look towards the exit, she flicked the lighter with her thumb and held the small flame to the edge of the ball of paper, her hand shaking, and then stepped back. A little fire burst to life, and she asked herself again: what the hell was she doing? But she couldn’t help the little smile that appeared on her face.

Satisfied that there was no serious danger of the tiny fire spreading, Kaatje quietly slipped back through the exit to the seating area in the foyer, found a hiding place behind one of the large potted plants, and waited for her little bit of handiwork to take effect.

Sure enough, after about sixty seconds it did.

The quiet calmness of the clinic was suddenly shattered by a loud high-pitched alarm that pierced the air, and red lights started to blink in the ceiling and corridors.

The receptionist dashed out from behind her counter and stood there looking left and right, her face a picture of panic and dismay. Unsure how to handle this sudden turn of events, eventually she decided that self-preservation was the best course of action and she hurried through the sliding doors to the car park outside.

From her hiding spot behind the plant Kaatje watched as, over the next few minutes, more and more people joined her, appearing from other buildings and annexes. From the corridor leading into the clinic, a number of people poured into the main foyer, doctors and medics and porters and a couple of angry-looking security guards, and these too joined the crowd outside, everybody standing around and looking alarmed and unsure of where to go or what to do.

Overhead the piercing alarm continued to beep loudly.

Kaatje waited a couple of minutes further, just to make sure that nobody else would appear, and when she was sure the coast was clear she moved out from behind the plant and nipped into the corridor, the doors sliding shut behind her.

She did not hang about, aware that someone would soon rumble her bit of subterfuge, and so she hurried along. On the floor she noticed the three coloured lines, and thinking back to what Pieter had told her yesterday, remembered him saying that the red line was the important one, the one which led to the secret part of the clinic, and so she followed it with a new steely determination flowing through her, her whole being now shaking with excitement.

She passed through a glass corridor and inner courtyard. Soon after, the yellow line branched off to one of the consultation rooms, exactly as Pieter had described. A minute or so later and the blue line veered off down a short passage to the accommodation wing. Ignoring this route, Kaatje pushed on.

Just then the alarm stopped, and the sudden silence that fell throughout the complex seemed full of silent echoes. Kaatje hesitated, now suddenly quite scared.

Should she give up and go back? Or find another exit and get out fast?

Damn it! She thought. She hadn’t come this far to bottle it now. This was real police work she was doing, the exact kind of thing she had signed on for. Besides, what would Pieter say?

Moving forward once more, she continued to follow the red line.

A few minutes later she found herself at her destination, the door signed OPHTHALMIC THEATRE 1B + 2AB. What’s more, the area was deserted, with no sign of the security guards that Pieter had run into: exactly as she had hoped.

Feeling her confidence bolstered once again, Kaatje stepped forward and pushed the heavy swing-door open.

On the other side was a small, square anteroom. There was a deserted nurse’s station, a row of drug cabinets on the wall and a black oxygen cylinder propped up in the corner. On the left and right two doors faced each other, marked 1B and 2AB. Directly opposite where Kaatje was standing was a third entrance, a sliding door with a switch on the wall.

Above the door, in simple black lettering was a sign which read:

UNIT 1 – RED ZONE

NO ADMITTANCE BEYOND THIS POINT EXCEPT FOR RED CLEARANCE PASS-HOLDERS

Taking a deep breath Kaatje strode over and hit the button, then passed through.

She paused just beyond the threshold, her eyes scanning the long room she found herself in, a little confused at first at just what she was seeing, but as her mind absorbed the implications she felt her mouth drop open and her eyes widen.

Before she could think any further she felt something soft press against her mouth, a piece of cloth or something, held there by a strong hand. It had a slight ether-like smell, which she knew instantly was chloroform.

After this, her world faded to nothing…

…She awoke feeling drowsy and nauseous and with her head pounding.

She was lying down, but the angle of her posture was all weird, with her legs higher than the top half of her body, which made the blood rush to her head, exacerbating the pain in her temples. Kaatje moved to reach up and massage her brow, but something stopped her from doing so, and it took a moment for the fog to clear from her mind enough for her to realize why: her arm was restrained by something wrapped tightly around her forearm, holding it in place. Then she realized that actually both of her arms and both of her legs were tied down. Also, when she tried

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