11
When his next meal was delivered, Derek ventured to speak to the guard.
“Where is my negotiator? He should have returned by now.” He tried to keep his teeth from chattering, tried to make his voice pleasant.
The Tamplian, who used a device that disengaged the force field in a half-meter square on the field wall, which allowed him to slide the metal tray across the floor to where Derek stood, ignored his inquiry. Guards were not supposed to interact with those being held or awaiting trial. He stepped back and reengaged the field.
“Wait! It’s been a week. He was scheduled to question witnesses, then return.”
Derek stared at the profile of the Tamplian as he moved to the next cell. Taking the few strides that would put him up against the field, Derek, full of frustration and humiliati
