Mr Cooper’s room was a surprisingly homely study on the second floor of the guards’ quarters: the walls covered with bookshelves and black-and-white photographs; the floor muffled in thick carpet; an agreeable clutter of antiques and china plates. The Dial’s Chief Warder was standing behind his desk, looking down at the two boys in front of him with an expression that was half amusement and half peevishness.

“Well?” he said finally.

Adam glanced at Major X. Both of them were covered in a grey coating of dust and rubble, but apart from a few cuts and bruises they were unharmed. It had taken the guards over an hour to haul them out of the chimney and out from under the stage. As Adam emerged back into the theatre, he started at the sight of Mr Pitt standing at the back of the hall, his arms folded in triumph. The Assistant Chief Warder was free again. Mr Pitt made no eye contact with the two inmates, but nodded curtly at a couple of guards as they offered him congratulations.

As Adam and the Major were escorted over the walkway, windows lit up across the prisoners’ quarters, and there was an eruption of cheers and banging. The shouts were still ringing in their ears as they were led up to Mr Cooper’s room and ordered to sit.

Major X cleared his throat. “I take full responsibility for the tunnel, sir. It was my work and my work alone. Adam here must have heard me digging – he didn’t know anything about my escape attempt.”

“You dug that tunnel all on your own?” Mr Cooper raised an eyebrow. “That would be some achievement, even for an inmate of your renowned industriousness.”

“I’ve had a lot of time on my hands, sir. As I said, the tunnel was my doing and I am prepared to accept the requisite punishment for the act of escaping.”

“I’m sure you are,” Mr Cooper said wearily. “I’m not surprised to see you here, but I am disappointed to have to speak to you, Wilson. Given your recent experiences, I would have thought that you’d be more careful about observing the prison rules.”

“All due respect, sir,” Major X cut in, “but what Mr Pitt did to Adam was a stain on the reputations of all the Dial’s guards. I can’t believe you’ve let him out.”

“What happened with Mr Pitt was extremely regrettable,” Mr Cooper said firmly. “He has been given a final warning as to his conduct. I would also remind you that had he not informed me of your plans to escape, who knows what might have happened in that tunnel.” His eyes flashed behind his glasses. “And you will speak only when I ask you to, Hawkins.”

Adam wasn’t sure which he found more surprising: the sudden hardness in Mr Cooper’s voice, or the fact Major X had a surname. When the Chief Warder spoke again, his tone was mild once more.

“I can’t allow past events to excuse actions in the present. Wilson, you were apprehended in an illegal tunnel in the act of escaping. Though Hawkins is no doubt labouring under the misconception that he is being somehow honourable, I don’t believe a word of his story. Are you going to try to persuade me?”

Major X kicked Adam in the side of his foot, urging him to stay silent. He needn’t have bothered. Even though Adam hadn’t helped plan or dig the tunnel – and had turned down the chance to escape with the Tally-Ho – there was no way he was going to leave the Major to face the music alone now. When all was said and done, they were both prisoners in the same gruesomely unfair regime. They were on the same team.

“No, sir,” he said firmly. “If you’re going to punish the Major, then you have to punish me too.”

Mr Cooper blew out his cheeks with exasperation. He picked up a photograph of two small children from his desk and examined it thoughtfully.

“My boys,” he said, proudly showing the photograph. “It’s been a long time since I saw them. A couple of hundred years, in fact. But they’ll be waiting for me on Earth when I get back, just like your families will be. It doesn’t mean I don’t miss them both terribly, though. I wouldn’t have spent so much time away if I didn’t truly believe in the Dial, and the vital lessons it teaches. It’s my duty to be here, don’t you see? I’m not just here to punish you. I’m also here to help you, to teach you, to protect you. You play at escaping but you don’t realize that this isn’t a game. Aren’t you aware how close you were to getting killed tonight? Don’t you see that getting caught is the best thing that can happen to you?”

He was greeted with a resounding silence.

“I’ve had enough of both of you,” the Chief Warder said finally, setting down his photograph. “A week each in solitary. And don’t let me see you in here again.”

 

The punishment cells were housed in a low, reinforced hut on Wing X: ten tiny rooms linked by a single corridor. Each cell was identical, measuring six small paces by six small paces, with a cot, a hand basin and a bucket, and a barred window high up near the ceiling. The walls were covered in scratches – tallies of days previous prisoners had spent locked up. Running his fingers over the indentations, Adam imagined the inmates who had been here before him: their histories of stubborn dissent and daring escape attempts, fights and backchat; brave, unrepentant children who paced and raged their way through their punishment. Inspired, Adam settled down to take his incarceration without complaint.

But as one day crawled silently into the next, Adam’s resolution waned, and he soon found himself wishing that he’d followed the Major’s lead and denied that the tunnel had had anything to do with him. His only human contact came twice a day, when a guard appeared at his door to give him a plate of food and exchange his bucket. No matter how much Adam cajoled or goaded him, the guard remained tight-lipped. Adam wasn’t sure if there was anyone else locked up besides him and the Major, until one night the hut was shaken by a piercing howl from a nearby cell. Adam heard guards hurry down the corridor; bolts were drawn back and voices raised, then the dreadful silence folded back over his head.

Time quickly lost meaning. Adam stopped bothering to wash, preferring to curl up in his cot and watch the shafts of sunlight as they crept up his walls. It was a shock when his cell door finally opened and a guard beckoned him outside. Adam stumbled into the corridor, light-headed with the sudden movement. Three doors down he saw Major X appearing from his cell, stretching airily and shaking hands with his guard. The Tally-Hoer looked like he had spent a restful weekend in a hotel. He nodded at Adam.

“Morning,” he said. “Enjoy your stay at the Chateau Stir?”

Adam stared at him dully, startled by the first words said to him for over a week. He allowed the Major to propel him gently along the corridor and out into the morning sunlight.

“Keep it together,” Major X murmured in his ear. “At least while the goons are watching us. Don’t give them the satisfaction of looking like they’ve got to you.”

“Easy for you to say,” Adam replied. “That was awful. I don’t know how you put up with it.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice. The first time is always the worst – not that it ever becomes a laugh riot, if you get my meaning.” As they passed a guard standing watch at the Wing X walkway gate, the Major laughed loudly and clapped Adam on the back. “Quite right – the food is better in there. We should get caught more often!”

Across the Dial, the rest of the inmates were standing in ranks on the exercise yard for roll call. To Adam’s relief, he was allowed to head straight back to the prisoners’ quarters. He returned to his dormitory to find a piece of paper tucked under his pillow, with a brief message penned in a florid hand:

 

Chapel. 1500 hrs. Come alone.

 

That afternoon, Adam slipped out of his dormitory and walked across to the chapel, where Luca D’Annunzio was sitting at the right-hand side of the back pew, thoughtfully scratching his neck beneath the bandages. He grinned as Adam approached.

“I hear you’ve been up to mischief again. At this rate you’re going to become as infamous as me.”

Adam shrugged and took a seat beside him. “It’s going to take more than a week in solitary. What’s up?”

“I’ve hit a snag,” said Luca, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I had an accident with one of the gas canisters – dropped it while I was making some last-minute adjustments to my balloon. Unless I can replace the stupid thing, I won’t be flying anywhere, and I’m running out of time before the big day.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Luca – but I don’t know what I can do to help. I’ve no idea where the guards keep gas canisters.”

“No, I didn’t think you would,” he replied. “But you know a man who does.”

Adam sat back in the pew. “Ah. I get it.”

“D’you think if we go and have a word with your pal Doughnut, you can persuade him to help me?”

“I’m not sure,” Adam said slowly. “He’s not your biggest fan.”

“Well, I’m all out of options,” Luca replied, rising to his feet. “Let’s hope he’s in a good mood.”

They went to each of Doughnut’s favourite haunts in turn, but the fixer was nowhere to be found. In desperation, Adam led Luca down to the laundry room beneath the prisoners’ quarters, where the air was clouded with steam and soapy suds ebbed across the tiled floor. Two inmates were working away at a mangle, sweat dripping down their foreheads as they fed sheets through the machine. Doughnut was reclining like a Roman emperor across a pile of laundry bags, flicking through a comic.

Adam frowned. “What are you doing down here?”

Doughnut jerked his head at the mangle. “Got told to do the weekly laundry by Mr Pitt. He’s even meaner than he was before he got locked up. And this is taking bloody ages, I tell you.” He called over to the inmates at the mangle, “Why don’t you guys take a break? You can finish the rest of the sheets later. I’ll have your magazines for you next week.”

The two boys nodded gratefully, and trudged out of the laundry. When they had shut the door, Doughnut got to his feet, his manner immediately businesslike.

“What’s up?”

Adam nodded at Luca. “My friend here wants to ask you something.”

The fixer carefully scrutinized the bandaged boy. “I’ve seen you around a few times, haven’t I? Don’t think I know your name, though.”

“Probably not,” he replied calmly, offering his hand. “Luca D’Annunzio. Pleased to meet you.”

Doughnut face froze. “This some kind of joke?”

Adam shook his head slowly.

“But he escaped! On the Quisling! Years ago!”

“Twenty-two, to be precise,” Luca interjected. “Only I didn’t escape.”

Doughnut’s eyes looked in danger of popping out of their sockets. “You’ve been hiding on the Dial all this time?”

“Yup. The first decade was a bit slow, but after that things picked up.”

The fixer folded his arms. “Whatever you’ve been up to, I don’t want anything to do with a collaborator.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Doughnut!” Adam burst out. “Luca’s innocent!”

He leapt into his story, telling his friend how he had tracked Luca down. At first the fixer seemed unconvinced, but when Luca took up the tale, outlining how Caiman had betrayed him, eventually Doughnut came round.

“I still can’t believe it,” he murmured, scrutinizing the swathes of bandages. “You had us all fooled.”

“It wasn’t that big a deal,” Luca said modestly.

“I saw you at Caiman’s court martial,” Doughnut said suddenly. “You must have been annoyed when Adam and I got him off.”

Luca shook his head. “I was pleased. I don’t want to see anyone who’s innocent being found guilty.” He paused. “Now, if they court-martial him for betraying me, that’d be a different matter.”

“I’ve said a lot of bad things about you over the years,” Doughnut confessed. “Especially to Adam.”

Luca nodded. “You weren’t the only one.” He offered his hand again. “No hard feelings?”

With a smile, Doughnut warmly shook the other boy’s hand. “No hard feelings. Now, what can I do for you?”

The fixer listened quietly to Luca’s story, then plumped himself back down on the laundry bags, his face creased in thought.

“Gas canisters. . .” he mused. “Now, the Docking Port would be the natural place to look, but security there has got so tight we’d be bound to get caught, and there’s no point checking the guards’ pantry. . .” Doughnut punched a fist into his palm. “Got it! There’s a storeroom upstairs where the guards keep all sorts of junk. Last time I had a search round there, I’m pretty sure I saw a couple of canisters. It’s worth a look, at any rate.”

“Upstairs?” Adam said excitedly. “Brilliant – let’s go now!”

Doughnut shook his head. “It’s not quite as simple as that, my friend. The storeroom’s on the fourth floor.”

“The fourth floor?” asked Luca. “But that’s in the girls’ dormitories! How are we supposed to get in there?”

Doughnut looked him thoughtfully up and down. “What size are you?”

Luca gave Adam a baffled glance.