"Simon R. Green - Haven 06 - Bones of Haven" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Simon R)

Hawk yanked on the bell pull again, hammered on the door with his fist, and kicked it a few times for
good measure. All he got out of it was a stubbed toe and an unsympathetic glance from Fisher. Finally
a sliding panel in the door jerked open and a grim-faced prison guard studied their Guards' uniforms
for a long moment before slamming the panel shut and opening the judas gate in the main door to let
them in. Hawk and Fisher identified themselves, and weren't even given time to dump their dripping
wet cloaks before being hustled through the outer precincts of the prison to the Governor's office.
Everywhere they looked there was bedlam, with prison guards running this way and that, shouting
orders no one listened to and getting in each other's way. Off in the distance they could hear a dull roar
of raised voices and the hammering of hard objects on iron bars.

The Governor's office was comfortably furnished, but clearly a place of work rather than relaxation.
The walls were bare save for a number of past and present Wanted posters, and two framed
testimonials. The plain, almost austere desk was buried under paperwork, split more or less equally
into two piles marked "Pending" and "Urgent." The Governor, Phillipe Dexter, stood up from behind
his desk to shake hands briefly with Hawk and Fisher, gestured for them to take a seat, and then
returned to his own chair quickly, as though only sheer willpower had kept him on his feet that long.
He was an average-looking man in his late forties, dressed fashionably but conservatively, and had a
bland, politician's face. At the moment he looked tired and drawn, and his hand had trembled slightly
with fatigue when Hawk shook it. The two Guards took off their cloaks and draped them over the coat
rack before sitting down. The Governor watched the cloaks dripping heavily on his carpet, and closed
his eyes for a moment, as though that was definitely the last straw.

"How long has this riot been going on?" asked Hawk, to get the ball rolling.
"Almost four hours now." The Governor scowled unhappily, but his voice was calm and measured.
"We thought we could contain it at first, but we just didn't have the manpower. This prison has always
suffered from overcrowding, with two or even three inmates locked up in a cell originally meant for
one. Mainly because Haven has almost doubled in size since this prison was built. But we coped,
because we had to. There was nowhere else to put the prisoners; all the other gaols in Haven are just
holding pens and debtors' prisons, and they face the same problem as us. But, thanks to the Council's
ill-advised purge of the streets/we've had prisoners arriving here in the hundreds over the last week or
so, and my staff just couldn't cope with the resulting crush. We had four, sometimes five, to a cell in
some places, and not even enough warning to allow for extra food and blankets. Something had to
give.

"The prisoners decided this morning that they couldn't be treated any worse than they already were,
and attacked the prison staff during breakfast and slopping-out. The violence soon spread, and we
didn't have enough manpower to put it down. Essentially, we've lost half the prison. Barricades and
booby traps have been set up by the inmates in all the approaches to two of the main Wings, and
they've been throwing everything they can get their hands on at us to make us keep our distance.
They've started several fires, but so far the prison's security spells have been able to stamp them out
before they could get out of control. So far, no one's actually escaped. Our perimeter is still secure.

"We've tried to negotiate with the inmates, but none of them have shown any interest in talking. Pretty
soon the Council is going to order me to take the occupied Wings back by force, before the Kings get
to hear about the riot and start getting worried. But that, believe it or not, isn't the main problem.
Adjoining the two occupied Wings is Hell Wing, where we keep our supernatural prisoners. Creatures
of power and magic, locked away here while awaiting trial. Hell Wing is in its own pocket dimension,
surrounded by powerful wards, so it should still be secure. But there are reported to be several magic-
users among the rioters, and if they find a way into Hell Wing and set those creatures loose, a whole
army of Guards wouldn't be enough to control them."