24 Martins’ heels thudded loudly on the bare concrete, echoing up and down the corridor, as she strode along behind the prison guard. The noise only stopped when they reached the door at the corridor’s end, where it was replaced by the rattle of keys, first as the guard searched for the right one, and then as the key was inserted into the lock and turned. The next noise to fill the silence was the protest of hinges in need of oil, followed by a heavy bang as the door crashed into a metal pole that stuck up from the floor, to which the door could be secured. “When you’re ready to leave, just bang on the door,” the guard said once Martins was through, he then shut the door and locked it. Martins glanced over her shoulder at the locked door but returned her attention to the room before he