This time when I enter the cell area, all the guards are massed around the reception desk. The detective stands with them. It seems they have had a struggle and they are flushed and out of breath. No one speaks. They stare at me but this time without the studied arrogance.
Violence is near at hand and it has concentrated their minds.
It is very tense. I look around for some indication of what I should do but none comes. Two of the guards walk down with me to his cell. And now, having lit the touchpaper, he stands well back and waits for the fireworks. I pull down the plate and, recalling the various horror stories about people leaning too far through the wicket hole and having their noses bitten off or turds stuffed in their mouths, keep my head well away from the opening.