Breakout: A Heart-Pounding Lex Harper Thriller

by Stephen Leather

  Harper watched, fascinated as he did that. ‘Now I just have to put an edge on it,’ the blacksmith said, working a foot pedal to send a grindstone spinning and then showering sparks in all directions as he held the blade against it. He swapped to a finer-grained grindstone for the final sharpening, tested the edge with his thumb and then held it out to Harper. The metal was still a little blued by the heat it had been exposed to, but the edge was cut-throat sharp.

  ‘Perfect,’ Harper said. ‘Muchas gracias.’ He slipped the knife into the back of his belt, handed the blacksmith the $50 note, and went back to the cell where the stench from twenty metres away showed that Ricardo was still stirring boiling urine.

  Harper sent him to relieve Lupa on watch, but the smell was so bad that she stopped dead as she was approaching the cell and said. ‘Oh no, Lex. I don’t want to see what you’re doing in there, and I’m definitely not coming in to find out. I’ll be back at the café if you need me.’ She turned on her heel and went back across the courtyard.

  It took the rest of the day and most of the night to convert sufficient urine to saltpetre crystals. They then used a rounded stone to reduce them to powder and then did the same with the charcoal from the forge, breaking the lumps apart with their fingers and then crushing them to powder with the stone. Harper then carefully weighed out the mixture of sulphur, saltpetre and charcoal, and blended them together with exaggerated care.

  ‘Producing gunpowder this way is obviously not a precise science,’ he said. ‘So it will be of variable quality and it’ll be quite unstable. You can’t use it in wet weather, because damp black powder won’t ignite, but when it’s dry, it’s so volatile that it can be detonated by a spark of static electricity. You have to pack it down into your weapon or explosive charge, but if you compress it too much, by ramming it down hard with a ramrod for example, it may explode and blow you to pieces. On the other hand, if you’re too tentative and leave too many air-gaps, then when you try to detonate the charge or pull the trigger of your weapon, it either won’t go off at all or the powder won’t combust properly. However, if we get it right, it’ll do the job and it’s perfect for close range work because black powder combusts so rapidly that a round reaches its maximum velocity after travelling less than ten feet. So as well as a frame charge and some grenades, we can use it in improvised weapons too.’

  ‘The guards up in the towers are a lot more than ten feet away,’ Lupa said. ‘So will we have the range to hit them?’

  ‘Almost certainly not,’ Harper said, ‘so we’ll have to take care of them in Phase Two of the plan.’

  ‘What plan?’

  ‘The one I’m about to tell you about. Right, we’ve learned the routine of the guards and Don Lorenzo’s thugs. Two are stationed outside the punishment cells at all times. They sit on those battered chairs or pace around the yard and don’t leave even to relieve themselves, using a corner of the yard instead. But whatever hours the guards are actually supposed to be keeping, they are rarely there during the day and never after dusk, relying on the locked cell doors and Don Lorenzo’s thugs to keep the prisoners confined overnight.’

  One of the walls in the San Martin section had been scaffolded with bamboo, ready for repainting, and a couple of spare lengths of bamboo, three metres long and about ten centimetres in diameter, were lying next to it. ‘Grab those,’ Harper said, ‘they’ll be perfect.’

  ‘Perfect for what?’ Lupa asked.

  ‘I’ll show you. Ricardo, can you buy or hire a wood saw from that guy who sells hardware from his cell?’

  When Ricardo returned, holding a rusty, but still serviceable saw, Harper cut two pieces from one of the lengths of bamboo, one about a metre long and the other a metre and a half, and then split them lengthwise. He joined them together into a rectangle, using bits of scrap wire from the forge and then packed them with some of the home-made gunpowder. He made a fuse from a twisted piece of newspaper, filled with more black powder, and inserted it into the charge, then held it up and examined it. ‘It’s pretty primitive,’ he said, ‘and the fuse is probably only good for three or four seconds, but it’s a frame charge of a sort, so it should do the job and blow Scouse’s cell door if we need to.’

  ‘But a bamboo frame?’ Lupa said. ‘Won’t it just blow apart?’

  ‘It may not be as hard as steel,’ Harper said, ‘but it’s not far off - they use it for scaffolding for a reason.’

  ‘Couldn’t we just pick the lock?’

  ‘You know any safecrackers? Me neither, so a frame-charge is going to be the best option.’

  ‘And what if one of Don Lorenzo’s men has the key to the cells on them?’

  ‘Then we won’t need to set the frame charge, but it’s best to be prepared for any eventuality.’

  Ricardo glanced into the huge pan which was still two-thirds full with black powder ‘There’s a lot of gunpowder left.’

  ‘Yeah, but we don’t need any more to blow the cell door. We may not need the rest, but better to have it ready, just in case.’

  ‘So when are we going to try to free Scouse?’

  ‘Tonight’s the night. Best try to grab a few hours’ shut-eye now because we’ll not be getting any the other side of midnight. One of us needs to stay on watch in case Don Lorenzo’s boys decide to pay us a visit, but I’ll take the first watch while you two get some rest.’

  CHAPTER 14

  Harper had always planned to make the attempt to free Scouse at around four in the morning, when the body’s daily cycle was at its lowest ebb and the thugs guarding him were likely to be drowsy or even asleep. Timing it then would also leave the minimum possible time before the gates of the prison were opened soon after day-break, when they could attempt to get Scouse out, with luck, before his absence from the cells had been detected.

  They remained inside their cell until well after midnight. When Harper heard the church clocks out in the city streets striking three o’clock, he eased the cell door open and slipped out into the yard, followed by Ricardo and Lupa. The moon had already set, leaving only the faint glow of starlight illuminating the yard in front of the punishment cells, and it barely penetrated the darkness of the passage where Harper and the others were watching and waiting. They remained there, silent and motionless, every sense attuned to the noises of the night and the movements of the two men in front of the cells. One sat on a battered chair, his eyes half-closed and his chin drooping towards his chest. The other, more alert, was standing, occasionally pacing to and fro across the yard.

  After Harper had been watching for almost an hour, the man yawned, stretched and walked towards the corner of the yard. Harper heard the sound of a zip and a moment later, his back to the yard, the man began to take a piss against the wall. At once Harper broke cover, sprinting silently on his rubber-soled shoes towards the dozing guard, still with his chin on his chest. He had shown no sign of even being aware of Harper’s approach until two powerful hands clamped themselves around his head. One covered his mouth, stifling any cry he might have made, the other grasped the back of his head and with a sudden savage jerk, Harper broke the man’s neck. He died instantaneously with no noise other than the snap of bone, but that faint sound was enough to alert the other man.

  Still fumbling with his flies as he turned, he saw the prone figure of his dead comrade with Harper standing over him, and in the next instant, he was running towards him, pulling a knife as he did so. Harper whipped his own knife from the back of his belt and went into a fighting stance, poised on the balls of his feet, half-crouched, hands extended to either side, with the knife gripped in his fist. The thug half-checked his advance, eyes narrowing as he worked out his next move. He feinted a thrust with the knife held in his left hand, then switched hands in an instant and lunged for Harper’s chest with the knife in his right hand.

  Harper swayed back, feeling the wind of the knife-blade as it sliced the air close enough to his chest to nick the fabric of his shirt, then sprang forward. He grabbed the man’s wr
ist, pulling him off-balance, and as his other arm flailed the air, Harper slashed down and across with his own knife, cutting a gash so deep into the other man’s wrist that the tendons severed and gouts of arterial blood began to pump from the wound. The knife slipped from the man’s fingers and clattered to the ground.

  Harper was still moving, swinging him around, and as what might have been a cry of pain or a warning shout was still forming in the man’s throat, he slashed him across the throat. It severed the unprotected carotid arteries and the windpipe, so no noise emerged from the dying man’s throat but a gurgling, sucking sound that faded to silence within seconds as the last of his lifeblood drained onto the dust of the yard.

  Harper held the body until the death spasm had stilled, then dropped him to the ground. He paused, listening for any sounds, then searched the pockets of both dead men, but neither had been holding the keys to the cells. Stifling a curse, he signalled to Ricardo and Lupa, who came running across the yard, carrying the frame charge.

  Harper fitted it to the door, waved the other two back into cover then pulled a disposable lighter from his pocket and held it ready. Before lighting the fuse, he leaned close to the door and whispered. ‘Scouse!’

  There was no response and he had to call three more times, each one at slightly louder volume, until he got a sleepy response. ‘Lex? Is that you?’

  ‘You were expecting Brad Pitt? Yes it’s me. Now listen, we don’t have long. Wake yourself the hell up. We haven’t got the key so I’m using a home-made charge with a somewhat unpredictable explosive. So get yourself as far from the door as you can. Turn your back, close your eyes and mouth, and put your fingers in your ears, otherwise the over-pressure when we blow the door is likely to make you deaf or something worse. Got me?’

  ‘Got you.’

  ‘Okay. You ready? Counting down: Three - Two - One.’ He lit the fuse, flattened himself against the wall alongside the entrance and put his fingers in his ears. There was a muffled bang and a dense cloud of smoke billowed around him but when it cleared, the frame charge had done its work and the door was half-open, hanging from one hinge. He ran into the cell and helped Scouse outside. He was in very poor shape, indescribably filthy and weak as a kitten, and the smell of his body and the rags he was wearing made Harper’s eyes water as he supported him. The stench from the cell was even worse and as she ran towards them, Lupa stopped, gagged and turned away, holding her scarf to her face.

  ‘We need to move fast,’ Harper said. ‘With luck, no one - or no one we’re concerned about anyway - will have heard the noise. Self-preservation will probably keep most, if not all of the other prisoners in their cells, because finding out what is causing noises in the night can be bad for the health, but we don’t want to be standing around out here if the noise brings any of Don Lorenzo’s boys hurrying to investigate. So Ricardo and Lupa, get Scouse back to our cell while I tidy up here.’

  The two of them began half-steering and half-carrying Scouse through the passageway and across the next courtyard to the cell they had been using, while Harper dumped the bodies of the two thugs in Scouse’s cell and then dragged the door shut again, its one remaining hinge squealing in protest. Anything more than a casual look would show that it had been blasted open, but he hoped that someone entering the yard who saw a row of closed doors and no sign of the men who were supposed to be keeping watch on them, would be more concerned to track them down than carry out a cell-by-cell inspection.

  He kicked some of the thick brown dust of the Altiplano that covered every surface of the prison, including the floor of the yard, onto the already congealing pool of blood where he had killed the second of Don Lorenzo’s men, hiding it from a casual glance. He looked around him, listening intently for the sound of anyone approaching, then ran through the passage and back to their cell.

  Scouse was propped up on a chair, blinking in the unaccustomed light from the lamp they had lit. ‘Scouse, mate, we need to get you cleaned up and out of here pronto,’ Harper said, ‘but once you’ve washed some of that filth off your hands, you’d better eat some food if you can. Not too much at once if you’ve not had any for a while or you’ll be barfing it all up again. Then we’ll get you ready to go. Talk if you want or just stay quiet, if you’d rather.’

  ‘You don’t know how glad I am to be out of there,’ Scouse said, his broken teeth making him mumble his words. ‘There’s no bedding, just bare boards and the concrete floor, and it was so cold at night, I couldn’t stop shivering. I was sure I was going to die in there.’

  Lupa washed the worst of the filth from Scouse’s hands, then handed him some bread and a banana. He ate both in seconds. ‘They only fed me a bowl of slops once a day,’ he said, ‘and a litre of water that had to last until the next day. I was never allowed out of my cell at all and the guards and the warden beat me all the time. They told me I had to keep my head bowed when they came into my cell and I wasn’t allowed to look at them or speak to them, but then they’d ask me questions and if I stayed silent they’d beat me for refusing to answer, but if I spoke they’d beat me anyway for breaking the silent rule.’

  ‘What questions did they ask?’ Harper said, still unwilling to believe that Scouse was being held as a human sacrifice but struggling for any other explanation about why he had been held so long without any ransom demand.

  ‘Nothing that made any sense. Things like did I have a wife and family and had I booked a hotel before I flew in.’

  ‘They were probably just trying to reassure themselves that no one, or at least no one powerful or influential, was going to come looking for you and start asking awkward questions of them.’ He paused, casting a critical eye over his old mate. ‘Right, let’s get to work on you. Sit on that chair and lean forward so Lupa can wash your hair.’

  She poured a bucket of water over his head, rubbed it with soap and then sluiced it off with another bucketful. Harper used the scissors to cut Scouse’s hair, and applied the hair dye to it, being careful to keep it from staining the skin of his forehead. He soaped Scouse’s face and shaved him, and Lupa then went to work with the make-up she had bought, using it to hide his pallor and his bruises. Harper stripped off his clothes, handed them to Scouse to wear and, wrinkling his nose at the stench, dressed himself in the rags Scouse had been wearing. He then picked up the black marker pen they had brought in with them and carefully copied the number on his own forearm on to Scouse’s. They were of a similar build, though even before his spell in solitary confinement, Scouse had been nowhere near as fit and powerful as Harper, and he was now very emaciated. However with a wash and shave, a little grooming and make-up, and a change of hair colour, Harper felt he was close enough in looks to pass the guards at the gate using the fake passport that Harper had surrendered to them on his way in to the prison.

  He checked his watch. ‘It’s just getting light and the guards will be unlocking the gate in a few minutes time. You’ll get my passport back from them. It’s fake but good enough to fool anyone, and I think we now look enough alike for you to pass as me.’ He winked at Lupa. ‘In any case, we gringos probably all look alike to them. I’ll give you some money for a generous tip for them, and once they get a sight of that, I doubt they’ll be asking any questions. They’ll just want you out of the way before they have to share it with the others. Lupa, can you give me a minute? I need to drop my trousers to get Scouse some money for his bribe.’

  ‘Sure, though it won’t be anything I haven’t seen before.’

  Harper laughed and as she sauntered out of the cell door, he undid his jeans, retrieved the hidden condom, handed part of the contents to Scouse and slipped the rest into the pocket of his jeans. ‘There’s $100 to bribe the guards at the gate. Once you’re out, go straight to the place we’ve been staying, The Pacific Hotel, halfway up the street that opens off the far right hand corner of the square. There’s an air ticket out of Bolivia, and some walking around money waiting in my room there - Room 22 - taped to the bottom of the wardrobe. T
here’s a Colt pistol, another passport and some more money too, but leave those where they are. Hole up in the room, take a couple of showers, because you still definitely aren’t smelling too fragrant at the moment, catch up on some sleep and stuff your face with food. Don’t booze it up too much though because you need to keep your wits about you, and only leave the hotel to go to a dentist who can do a temporary fix on your teeth. The hotel will be able to recommend someone, and for cash in dollars, I’m sure you can jump the appointment queue. Apart from that, don’t leave the hotel at all, and definitely not after dark. It’s best if you wait there for me. I should be there later today or tomorrow, but if I’m held up, I’ll be out of here one way or another as soon as possible. If things look like they’re turning ugly, or if something goes wrong and I don’t show within a week, you can just take the passport, ticket and cash, and get a flight out of here to anywhere - Miami if you can, but if not Peru, Brazil, Chile or Argentina, and then get an onward flight as quick as you can. You should be safe to fly out of La Paz if you keep it low profile. The bad guys will be looking for incoming foreigners to shake down, not departing ones. And when you do fly out, with me or without me, don’t ever come back here.’

  ‘I hear you, Lex.’

  ‘And keep those broken teeth covered up when you’re at the gates here, or the guards may twig who you are. I’ve sprung you once but I’m not sure I’ll be able to do it again if you’re spotted. So say as little as possible and if you have to talk, do it without moving your lips much or cover your mouth with your hand.’He looked at his watch. ‘Okay, they should be opening the gates any minute. Time to go.’ He eased the cell door open, checked for signs of any unusual activity in the yard outside and then nodded and beckoned Scouse to follow him. Harper and the others went with him to the main courtyard and watched as Scouse walked up to the guards. He handed over the bribe, waited while the guards checked the number on his arm, retrieved Harper’s fake passport, and crossed out the entry in the ledger. They then held the gate open for him and he strolled out into the square. He walked a few more yards, then showed a bit of his old swagger as he turned to give a salute to Harper, before hurrying away.