Control by Kim Curran - sample chapters

the project. Now they also made the wearer a bit more compliant.

Aubrey looked down at his twisted leg. “Did you have to?”

“He had a knife, Aubrey. A really big knife.”

She rolled her eyes at me, threw me my clothes, and knelt down next to him. As I pulled my T-shirt and jacket back on, Aubrey rested one hand on his calf and the other behind his knee. There was a loud, comic pop, like someone pulling their finger out of their mouth, and his leg was straight again.

He let out a muffled cry, like someone being woken from a dream, then returned to staring dully ahead.

Between us, we hauled him to his feet and pushed him forward.

“Come on, Pylon. Let’s get him in the van.”

“About this nickname,” I said as we half-carried, half-dragged Glenn down the street. “I’m not sure I like it. I mean, other people call each other Bunnykins or Peanut or Studmuffin. But the Pylon?”

“Well, look at you. You’re tall and all spiky. I think the Pylon is perfect.”

We directed Glenn all the way back along the canal, past the boat yard, and to the pub where we’d found him.

The ARES van was still waiting for us. Only someone had taken the time to scratch their name into the black paintwork with a key. Brilliant. Just what I needed. The Regulators would go mental when they saw that.

I kicked the bumper in frustration and it fell off.

“Why don’t we get special issue vehicles? You know,