Slammer

by Allan Guthrie

  He held it alongside his existing index finger. Looked a good match. Even in the dim light he could see that the skin colour wasn't ideal — Caesar's was much darker — but the length was good. First thing he'd have to do was trim the nail. Caesar's grooming left a lot to be desired.

  Dirty fuck.

  Dirty fucking fuck.

  'Fuck you, you fucking twat.'

  Glass took off his glove, moved Caesar's finger in place over the bandage on his own. Good. He put his glove back on, popped the finger in his pocket.

  He'd sort that out later. More important things to deal with right now.

  Had to find out where Watt lived.

  He shook Caesar.

  No joy.

  Slapped his face.

  No joy.

  Grabbed his hand, squeezed the bleeding stumps of his fingers.

  No joy.

  Pressed the heel of his hand into the wound on his stomach.

  No joy.

  Smashed his fist into his wounded knee.

  No joy.

  Before he left the peter, Glass pumped a bullet into Caesar's head.

  *

  When Glass walked into their cell, Mafia and Darko were in their underpants. They were each holding a shoe, which they'd been using to bang on the walls along with the other cons.

  Mafia said, 'The fuck's going on?'

  'It's Glass,' Darko said. 'He's got a gun.'

  'You the one who fired those shots?' Mafia asked. 'What have you done?'

  'You have to tell me where to find Watt,' Glass said.

  'Don't have to do fuck all,' Mafia said.

  Glass paused. Fuck it, he was covered in blood. And everybody would know soon enough. 'I killed them,' he said. 'Horse and Caesar. And Jasmine.'

  Darko said, 'Shit.'

  'Yeah,' Glass said. 'Shit.'

  Mafia said, 'Maybe you should leave it there, Nick.'

  'I can't,' Glass said. 'Watt has a tape recording of me admitting I smuggled drugs in for Caesar. And he's been coming round to my house, threatening my family. Now the boss he's so fond of is dead. That's going to piss him off just a bit.'

  'That's a fucker,' Mafia said. 'Caesar was probably the only thing keeping Watt in check.'

  'You have to help me find him, Mafia. If you help me, I'll help you. I'll get you out.'

  Mafia took off his glasses, looked towards him, eyes wiggling from side to side faster than Glass was used to seeing. 'He's my brother,' Mafia said. 'But the truth is, I should have dealt with him a long time ago. All I've done since coming in here is hide from the problem.'

  'So you'll tell me where I can find him?'

  'I'll do better than that. I'll take you there myself. If I'm going to snitch on him, I'd like to do it to his face.'

  'You better get dressed, then,' Glass said.

  *

  When Mafia takes off his glasses, eyes wiggling, he says, 'He's my brother. I'm not going to give him up.'

  'You have to,' Glass says.

  'You going to shoot me too if I don't?'

  'Fuck,' Glass says. 'Fuck. I have to get out. I have to find him.'

  'I'll come with you,' Darko says. 'But we need to go now.'

  'Mafia?' Glass says.

  'Go while you can.'

  'You better get dressed, then,' Glass says to Darko.

  *

  'Which is it?' asked the prison shrink's voice in Glass's head.

  'The first, of course. Mafia wouldn't let me down.'

  'You sure?'

  Glass was sure.

  For the plan to work, he had to hand over the gun so it would look like he was a hostage. It was a risk. But he had to put his trust in Mafia. There was no way he'd ever find Watt otherwise.

  They'd been close, grown apart, made up. But whatever Mafia thought of Glass right now, surely he wasn't stupid enough to kill a prison officer.

  Glass offered the gun to him. 'Careful with that,' he said.

  'No good to me,' Mafia said. 'I can't see well enough to hit a brick wall two feet in front of me.'

  'Give it to me,' Darko said. 'If you're leaving, I'm coming too.'

  'That's how Darko came along,' Glass said to Riddell. 'Even though we didn't want his company.'

  No, Glass didn't know Darko that well, and after the incident with the kitten, maybe Darko wasn't as friendly as he'd once thought. Glass pondered the situation for as long as it took to realise he didn't have any option. He gave Darko the gun.

  *

  Mafia held Glass round the neck, Darko, gun in hand, to the side of them. They'd staggered down the stairs and through the deserted C-Hall, listening to the shouts and bangs coming from the cells as they passed. Now they were approaching the entry gate and had to look convincing for the cameras.

  Darko gave Glass a good shake, making Glass reach for his key chain, find the key and open the gate. He fumbled it, cause he was using his left hand, but that just made it look more convincing, a bad case of the shakes.

  He slid back the gate and they stepped into the corridor.

  This was the spot where the corridors from the four halls converged. The corridor where they met led to the gatehouse. Glass had worried that somebody from the gatehouse might have come down to see what the noise was about. But that wasn't protocol. Protocol was to stay in the gatehouse and call for back-up. And then wait until back-up arrived.

  With any luck, that would take a while. Everybody was locked up, so there was no hurry. But even if back-up had already arrived, the three of them still had a good chance of walking out of here. Hostage situation like this, the cons armed with a gun, well, the authorities'd look pretty fucking bad if they let Darko shoot him. Three dead cons was bad enough. Three dead cons and a prison officer was a lot harder to explain to the press.

  They moved along the corridor, and Glass saw the outline of a figure in uniform on the other side of the gate.

  'Bollocks,' Darko whispered.

  'It's okay,' Glass whispered back. 'We need him. We can't open the main gate from this side. Got to be somebody on the other side who does that.'

  Darko said, 'Let's do it, then.' He grabbed Glass tighter. 'Fucker,' he shouted. 'Fucking screw.'

  Mafia started swearing at him too.

  Then Darko shouted to the officer, 'You better open up there or I'll shoot. Don't fucking think I won't.'

  Glass was struggling to breathe. Darko's choke hold was full on. Bastard was putting on a hell of a performance. Glass's head was tilted back, but he peered down the corridor and made out the officer on duty.

  It was Crogan.

  By rights Crogan should have gone home when Glass started his shift. Glass hoped to Christ that Crogan wasn't thinking about playing the hero. Why the fuck had the fool stayed behind?

  'Don't do it,' Glass said, playing his part.

  'I'll fucking shoot him,' Darko said.

  'Fuck off, you wee shite,' Crogan said.

  'I just want you to open the gate and let us through.'

  'Darko,' Crogan said, 'you know I can't open the gate.'

  Glass felt something thump against him. A split second later he heard a loud roar and pain flared in his shoulder. He fell forward till an arm snatched him back up onto his feet.

  His legs wouldn't hold him up, though.

  Glass felt his other arm tugged and wrapped round a neck. Mafia's, he supposed.

  'Fuck,' Mafia said. 'Fuck.'

  'Next shot,' Darko shouted. 'I'll shoot him in the spine, Crogan. And I'll save the last bullet for his head. So open the fucking gate.'

  Glass wanted to tell him that this was all unnecessary. Crogan had just been pretending to be stubborn. He'd have opened the gate no problem. Wasn't necessary for Darko to have shot him.

  Jesus Christ. Darko had shot him.

  That wasn't part of the fucking plan.

  *

  Crogan opened the gate, stood back, hands in the air, palms exposed. 'You okay?' he asked Glass as they passed.

  Glass tried to smile, but didn
't have the strength. He was struggling to stay upright. Thought he might throw up.

  'He needs a doctor,' Crogan said.

  'Fuck what he needs,' Darko said. 'Go sit the fuck down behind your desk like a good screw. And don't move.'

  Crogan raised his eyebrows but did as he was told.

  Darko said, 'Are the cops outside?'

  Yeah, Glass thought. Armed response unit. It'd be like the end of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, them running outside into a hail of bullets. Way to go. He was looking forward to it.

  'No one's waiting,' Crogan said. 'Got a couple of officers on their way from B and D-Halls. That's it.'

  'Expect us to believe that?' Darko said.

  'Up to you,' Crogan said.

  'Only two?'

  Crogan said, 'All that were spare.'

  'How come they're not here yet?'

  'No urgency,' Crogan said. 'Just heard you fuckers making a noise in C-Hall and thought I'd better get some company. On the off-chance I might need it.' He glanced at Glass. 'What happened?'

  'Jasmine's dead. And Horse.' Glass paused. 'And Caesar.'

  'Christ,' Crogan said. 'Somebody deserves a medal.'

  'Stop gassing,' Darko said. 'We need to take a look outside.'

  They moved towards the window in a clumsy shuffle.

  Darko peered through the bars. 'No sign of any cops.'

  'I told you,' Crogan said.

  Glass said, 'Which officers are coming?'

  'McDee and Ross.' Crogan shrugged. 'Lazy pair of fucks at the best of times.'

  Glass could hear the distant thumping from C-Hall, like toneless music from a nearby party.

  'But you told them you needed help?' Darko said.

  'Didn't know I needed any,' Crogan said. 'Just asked them to come over. In case.'

  'That's good,' Darko said. 'I like your optimism.' He walked towards the gate, Glass pinned to him.

  Heat had spread all over Glass's shoulder. Blood crawled down his back.

  'Now, when they get here,' Darko said, 'we'll all keep calm and everything'll be fine. And keep the noise the fuck down, Glass.'

  Glass realised he was moaning. He closed his mouth. It filled with saliva. He swallowed. Blinked hard. More painkillers. Didn't know if he could keep quiet without them. 'OXYs,' he said. 'Pills. My pocket.'

  'Get your hand away from there,' Darko said.

  Glass let his hand drop to his side.

  'Act like everything's normal,' Darko told Crogan, just as they heard footsteps in the corridor.

  Then voices, one much higher than the other. Sounded like Ross and McDee had bumped into each other en route.

  The voices got louder. Glass heard the clearly female voice of Ross saying, 'Crogan. Everything okay?'

  'Seems to be. What kept you?'

  'Took a look through the gate at C-Hall. No sign of Crystal. And they're making a real din. Reckon he's fucked up again.'

  'Come on through,' Crogan said. 'If Glass doesn't check in, we'll get a key, go take a look.' He buzzed open the gate. 'How's Fox?'

  'On the mend,' Ross said. 'But won't be back at work for a while yet. That's if he decides to come back.'

  Ross and McDee walked into the reception area, looked up at Crogan.

  Behind them, Darko said, 'Hands up.'

  McDee turned. 'Fuck me,' he said. 'He's got a gun.'

  'And he's not afraid to use it,' Darko said, giving Glass a shove.

  Pain spiked in Glass's shoulder, skittered down his back. He cried out. Had a violent impulse to see what his shoulder looked like. Not that he could, but that didn't stop him wanting to. Couldn't be worse than his finger.

  'He's bleeding,' McDee said.

  'Thanks,' Darko said. 'You could be Mafia's eyes. You've clearly got a talent for it.'

  McDee's hands moved about like they had a mind of their own. He finally settled on clenching his fists, holding them tight to his chest and banging his knuckles together.

  'Get your fucking hands up,' Darko said.

  'Why'd you bring us here, Crogan?' Ross said. 'Fucking right into a trap, you wank.'

  'They weren't here when I called you,' Crogan said. 'Couldn't do anything about it.'

  'Tell that to the—'

  'Quiet, kuja,' Darko said. 'Psi ti jebu mater. In the arse. And for the last time, get your hands up.'

  Ross shut up, raised her hands. McDee did the same.

  Crogan said, 'Let me call an ambulance.'

  'He told you to be quiet,' Mafia said.

  'Put your fucking hands up,' Darko said.

  They stood there staring at one another as the dull steady thump thump thump from C-Hall carried towards them. The cons would keep that up all night.

  Darko said to Glass, 'You got your car keys?'

  Glass said, 'Back …' Hard to breathe. '… pocket.'

  'What do we do about them?' Darko waved the gun at the officers. 'The gate only opens from the other side. You know how to open it, Glass?'

  Glass nodded. 'Button on the desk.'

  'Okay, folks,' Darko said. 'Take your clothes off.'

  Crogan, McDee and Ross stared at each other.

  Mafia said to Glass, 'What are they doing?'

  'Nothing,' Glass said.

  Darko shouted at them: 'TAKE OFF YOUR FUCKING CLOTHES.'

  One by one, they lowered their hands. McDee was the first to start to undo his jacket buttons. Then Crogan followed. Ross folded her arms.

  Glass said, 'Do it, Ross. Do it or he'll shoot me.'

  'Skinny wee fuck wouldn't dare,' Ross said.

  'He already has.'

  'That?' Turned her head to the side. 'It won't kill you.'

  'It's no fucking joke.'

  'He'll do it,' Crogan said.

  'I don't give a fuck,' Ross said. 'I'm not taking my fucking clothes off.'

  'You're such a cunt,' Darko said.

  'You're a sleazy Slavic fuck.'

  'Just fucking do what you're told,' Darko said.

  Ross didn't move.

  'We don't have time for this.' Darko aimed the gun in her direction and smiled.

  She closed her eyes.

  Darko fired.

  McDee dropped to the floor.

  'What happened?' Mafia said.

  'Let's go,' Darko said.

  'Did you hit her?' Mafia said.

  'Let's go right now.' Darko grabbed Glass's tie.

  Glass said, 'How bad is it, Ross?'

  She was bent over McDee. 'Fucker hit him in the chest. But he's still breathing.'

  'Should've done what you were told,' Darko said. 'That'll keep you busy.' He tugged Glass's tie. 'Time to go.'

  'I can't,' Glass said.

  'You'll do what you're told, too.'

  'I'd like to,' Glass said. 'But I really don't think I can.' As if to prove his point, his legs buckled.

  Darko and Mafia held him up. Been there before.

  'You fucks,' Darko said. 'Don't try anything till we're gone.' They shuffled across the room towards the outside door.

  'Leave Glass,' Crogan said. 'He needs an ambulance as much as McDee.'

  'Stop telling me what to do,' Darko said. 'Drkadzijo.'

  They heaved Glass along. Got to the door. Found the handle, opened it.

  A blast of wind hit Glass's face. Revived him a little. Not enough to hold himself up, though.

  'Come on,' Mafia said.

  A final look behind him and Darko said, 'After three.' He counted. Then they were moving again.

  Something pressed against Glass's wound. He screamed. There was no let-up. Nobody seemed to care.

  Mafia and Darko scampered across to the car park, Glass dragging his toes along the ground between them.

  Tried to lift them. Tried to raise his knees. But that just increased the agony.

  Must have passed out. Next he knew they'd come to a standstill. The pressure was off his shoulder, Mafia and Darko were breathing heavily, and Glass's face stung as if he'd been slapped.

  'Which one
's your car?' Darko was right in front of him, face in his face. Darko had slapped him. 'Your car?' he repeated.

  Wasn't a lot to choose from. A dozen or so.

  Glass wondered if he shouldn't just leave them to it. They'd find it eventually. They knew where his keys were. Could try the cars one after the other. That'd be fun. Staying awake was too much trouble.

  But they wouldn't let him sleep.

  His head snapped back as Darko slapped him again. Tasted blood this time. Felt a lump on the inside of his top lip. Raw round the edges.

  'Car?' Darko said. 'Last fucking chance.'

  Glass looked around, pointed it out.

  'Easy, wasn't it?' Darko said.

  Actually, it wasn't, but Glass didn't say so. His fingers and toes were tingling as if he had pins and needles. He was going to pass out again.

  He was looking forward to it.

  WEDNESDAY

  The voices came first. Before the pain. But when the pain hit, it deafened him to everything else.

  Glass opened his eyes. Light pressed like thumbs into his eyeballs. A welcome relief from the craziness in his shoulder.

  Took a moment, blinking, for his eyes to adjust.

  Gradually, the bleary streak turned into a room. An unfamiliar one.

  No recollection of how he'd got here. Mafia and Darko must have carried him inside.

  Inside. Not there, no. They weren't in the Hilton.

  They'd escaped.

  Well, Darko and Mafia had escaped.

  Given what Glass had done, maybe it was accurate to say that he'd escaped too. He'd killed Caesar. He'd killed Horse. He'd killed Jasmine. Had he really done that? The memories seemed real enough.

  He took a breath and looked around.

  A couple of single beds, each with a cheap night table. A clock on the table telling him the time was 2:02. A desk against the far wall. A wooden chair. A more comfortable armchair that Darko was pacing up and down in front of.

  Glass heard Mafia mention his name.

  The curtains were drawn, the overhead light on. A TV, turned off, squatted in the corner. A kettle sat on a coffee table.

  Who had a kettle in the bedroom, Glass wondered. Who had two single beds in the bedroom come to that?