Chapter TwelvePurpose
The room had once been an office in a row of offices, taking up the upper level of the decommissioned courthouse. The fittings were cobbled together and mismatching in a way that clashed violently, stolen from houses and hotels nearby. The garish bedspread Helena sat on was nearly obscured by the spread of parts from miscellaneous computer fragments. She turned the small GPS over in her hand. Small clusters of red dots were scattered across the screen. In the centre of the screen, the area identifying the courthouse was almost swallowed by a sea of red. A laptop rested on the floral patterned cover beside her, open to a near indecipherable matrix of code.
‘Done … I think,’ she said to the empty room. Her eyes fell on Charlie, sleeping on the floor in a pile of cushi
