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THE GOVERNOR

remote control and kept perfectly still. Whoever it was knocked again.

Everyone in the section knew my rule: I never opened the door unless the visitor announced his name, so I guessed it would probably be Jack, or someone like him who couldn't sleep, trying to trick me into letting him in. But if it was Jack, there was no way I was opening that door because then I might be tempted to take some coke. He always did that to me, right when I wanted to go to bed.

'Just one line, Thomas,' he would insist. 'Then I'll let you rest.' And he never went away until I agreed. But my time in San Pedro prison had taught me that there is no such thing as just one line of cocaine if you can get your hands on more. And the last thing I needed that night was him keeping me up until dawn again.

However, when there was another round of more insistent knocking, I realised it wasn't Jack. It was way too loud. Jack would always knock really fast like there was a major emergency, but also extremely softly because he was paranoid about anyone knowing he was there. Sometimes he knocked so quietly that even I couldn't hear him and then he would get angry when he had to wait for ten paranoid minutes, tapping the door lightly with his fingers, until I realised there was someone there.

But if it wasn't Jack, who was it? Whoever it was knew that I was there and definitely wasn't going away.

'Who is it?' I finally called out from my bed.

'It's me,' replied a female voice.

'And me, too,' came another female voice.

That could only mean trouble. The section gates had been locked, which meant that my visitors had to be wives from the section. The only reason the wives visited other prisoners without their husbands was if they were having problems at home. The fact that there wasn't one but two women at my door meant that it was probably even bigger trouble. I didn't like it at all.

'Who?' I demanded again and got the same response, although this time I thought I heard laughter. It certainly didn't sound like they were upset. 'Yes, but what are your names?'

'Marcela . . .'

'And Maria-Teresa,' they giggled. I didn't know them, and my first thought was that someone was playing a trick on me.

Putting the packet of ganja in my pocket, I opened the door to be

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