by Stan Mason
Preston was a little confused with regard to his role at Lancaster jail.
Firstly, he had been left with no prisoners, but then some were sent there only to be returned after they had undergone the body exchange process. His jail now held two American prisoners but he knew that their demise was imminent. The body exchange programme had become a death-trap to practically every donor by means of stress and age. In due course he hoped to be able to govern a jail with a full five hundred prisoners but, at the present time, that seemed a tall order in the scheme of things. Yet he strongly believed that there had to be an end to the debacle... there just had to be!
***
In every walk of life, whenever a crisis occurs, a person comes forward out of the blue to become a leader... a hero... or someone sufficiently brave and lion-hearted to make their way into the history books. It happened in the past with a miscellany of wonderful people... Florence Nightingale during and after the Crimea War in Russia... William Wilberforce who campaigned against the slave trade... Emily Pankhurst, the suffragette who fought for the rights of equality for women... Elizabeth Fry for successful penal reform... and a countless list of other people whose claim to fame was outstanding. In fact the list of courageous souls who helped to change laws and change the lives of ordinary folk for the better remarkably goes on and on.
In this particular case, the field of battle was open for Dominic Ford, the Member of Parliament for Lavington in Lancashire, to step up to the plate. He came from a devout Catholic family whose ancestors could be traced as far back as 1678 to Titus Oates in the Popish Plot. Ford was an upright man , the son of a wealthy farmer, and his education took him to Eton and Harrow. After helping his father on the farm for some years, he had entered politics at a relatively early age and was well-established as a Member of Parliament for the main Party in power, having won two suggestive General Elections.
As an exceedingly conscientious person, he had been watching the local scenes very carefully, haring some gossip about exceedingly old men becoming rejuvenated. There were a number of tales about people in their late eighties who seemed to be inspired with the new spirit of youth, demanding to take up the reigns again in whatever field of operation they had been involved with during their younger lives. In particular, there was a ninety year old ex-politician, who should have been at home watching television and sleeping most of the time, who had submitted a claim to stand for a seat at the next election. Another one, at the age of eighty-eight, had applied for a senior appointment with a major pharmaceutical company. A further person, aged eighty-seven, posted an application for a role in the Royal Air Force. And so it went on! Quite clearly, anyone who wanted to put two-and-two together would recognise that something extremely strange was going on.
Ford decided to make it his business to find out more about the reason for the resurgence of energy and drive in the people he had heard about. His enquiries led him to make an appointment with an artist, in his constituency. His name was Robert Tweasle and he had just purchased a studio telling everyone that he intended to have a showing at the Tate Gallery within two years. When Ford arrived at the studio, the artist was dressed in Bohemian clothes, holding a palette in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. He was part way through a winter scene with a polar bear and its cub in oils on canvas. When the Member of Parliament arrived, he laid down the palette and paintbrush and moved towards the kitchen to make them both a cup of coffee.
The visitor stared at the artist for a while and they began to talk. It was an old wrinkled face with pure white hair against the body language of a much younger man.
‘There’s very little I can tell you,’ confided Tweasle initially unwilling to divulge anything about the body exchange procedure. ‘I awoke one morning with new vigour as though someone had injected me with a hypodermic needle. I looked in the mirror to check that it was really me and I began a new life, taking up painting again.’
‘But what you’re saying is hardly possible without some kind of medical application and outside help,’ pressed Ford, trying to latch on to something more positive. There had to be a reason why Tweasle had become young and energetic again!
They sat at a table with cups of coffee in their hands as silence reigned supreme in the studio. The artist toyed with the idea of lying to his visitor but, in truth, he was only too willing to come clean and get the secret off his chest. He felt that he was not bound to secrecy to anyone and he didn’t see why he should not report the facts to his Member of Parliament.
‘Very well,’ he uttered reluctantly, allowing his tongue to run away with him. ‘I’ll tell you the truth. I received a letter from the Home Office inviting me to take part in an experiment at Lanchester jail. My first inclination was to decline but my curiosity got the better of me. I decided to go there only to discover that the Government was working on an experiment known as the body exchange programme. A group of us were taken to a room and told that we had the opportunity of a much longer life if we took part in the experiment. We would be injected with a serum to prevent us from suffering any pain and placed in a cubicle. A metal coat would cover our bodies, embedded with electrodes, from the neck downwards. A current would be passed through the system and our bodies would become young again. Even better, our heads would not be affected so that out talents and experience would be retained. As a result, we would have another thirty, forty or fifty years of life with a young body. At my age, how could I refuse? It was a win-win situation.’
Ford almost reeled at the revelation. ‘I don’t think I can believe that story,’ he retorted with a frown covering his face. ‘It’s too far-fetched! There has to be another reason. I mean, the Government has never approved any scheme of that nature. I think you’re playing me for a fool!
The artist began to unbutton his shirt, opening it fully to expose his body to the Member of Parliament. ‘Does this look like the body of an eighty-eight year old man?’
Ford stared at the man’s chest and abdomen in utter disbelief. It was true! There were many wrinkles in the artist’s face but no one in his body! His head showed his true age but his body was that of a much younger person... someone in the region of his late thirties.
‘It’s strange,’ continued the artist, ‘but although my mind doesn’t wish to become involved with women at my advanced age, my body continues to have erections like that of a young man. I have to masturbate regularly to release the pressure.’
Ford was flabbergasted, unable to speak for a short while/ ‘You say that all this happened at Lancaster jail?’ he managed to say in due course.
‘They installed a marquee in the main area of the prison,’ Tweasle told him frankly. ‘The two cubicles were there... one for the donor and the other one for people like me. All the equipment was ready to go. Afterwards, they sat me down on a chair and placed a blanket around me. I was given a cup of tea and soon I was as right as rain with a brand new body.’
‘What about the prisoner who was your donor?’ came the question. ‘What about him?’
‘Well he retained his head but he had my body,’ returned the artist casually, without caring what had happened to the donor. ‘I presumed that he was returned to his cell. All I know is that my breathing was becoming difficult before I went into the experiment and my doctor didn’t give me long to live. The poor man probably died a short while afterwards. As far as I was concerned, I had a new lease of life and started painting again... just like I did in the old days!’
‘How many people were there in the group invited to the jail?’ asked Ford seriously.
‘About thirty I’d say’ replied Tweasle, feeling better now that he had relinquished himself of the secret.
The Member of Parliament asked a few more questions before leaving the studio with determination in his mind. It was inconceivable to him that the Government would embark on an experiment of such a heinous nature without passing the process throug
h the Parliamentary Committees in the House of Commons or revealing details in the main chamber. As the bodies of more and more people were exchanged, the experiment was clearly getting out of hand becoming much harder for it to be kept as a secret. Specifically, many people were acting contrary to their natural lives while others were dying quickly by default. He suddenly realised that the subject of jails had never arisen in Parliament , not even in Prime Minister’s Question Time. Now it was up to him to ask questions, and he made his way to Lancaster jail to face Bill Preston in his office. The Governor was surprised to have to field an audition with a Member of Parliament and he stared at the Governor bleakly.
‘I’m aware of an experiment which took place in this jail,’ he admitted freely trying to control his temper, although he knew that there was no responsibility on behalf of the Governor.
Preston tried to make up his mind whether or not to be honest about the situation. If he revealed all that he knew, he could cause a great deal of trouble. He was in a cleft stick. If he told the truth, there would almost certainly invoke many problems. If he did not, and the truth was eventually known, he could make the situation far worse. He could fob off the visitor with gobbledygook as politicians often did when asked with a difficult question but his ploy would soon be recognised.
’What kind of an experiment are you talking about?’ he responded in an attempt to stall the subject.
‘You tell me!’ snapped Ford insistently. ‘I’ve just met with an artist who said he came here on an invitation and had his body exchanged with one of your prisoners.’
‘And you believed him!’
‘I saw his body, dammit!’ ranted the Member of Parliament. ’He had the head of an eighty-eight year old man and the body of a young person. How do you account for that?’
’I’m not a doctor, a scientist nor am I Charles Darwin,’ countered the Governor calmly. ’It’s no use asking me questions of this nature.’
’Come on, man!’ pressed Ford irately. ’Tell me the truth!’
’I’m the Governor of this jail,’ came the reply. ’I can tell you anything you want to know about the prisoners here or the way I run it.. Above that there’s nothing more I can say.’
’You can do better than that!’ rattled the visitor firmly.
’Maybe I can and maybe I can’t,’ stalled the Governor sagely. ’You can take the horse to water but you can’t make it drink, Mr. Ford. As I told you, it’s not for me to tell you about anything that happens here except with regard to the prisoners.’
’How many inmates are there in the jail ?’ countered Ford, attempting another line of questioning.
‘At the moment there are no prisoners here,’ came the quick response. The Governor decided not to reveal the existence of the two American prisoners who were deposited there to avoid further questions that he was unable to answer.
Ford frowned at the reply as though facing an avalanche of nonsense. ‘How come?’ he ventured in astonishment. ‘There ought ot be five hundred!’
‘They were transferred to Blackstock jail. Some of them died.’
‘How many died?’
The Governor paused for a moment realising that he had given the other man too much information. ‘You’ll have to ask the Governor of Blackstock jail.’
‘I presume they died because they went through this body exchange system and their bodies failed to adjust to the sudden change,’ declared Ford perceptively, realising the truth.
Preston decided that he had enough of playing with the other man and decided to put an end to it. ‘You’re asking all these questions,’ he retorted unhappily, ‘but I’m not the one you should be asking. Contact Alan Jordan who’ll tell you everything you need to know.’ He scribbled a telephone number on a strip of paper and handed it to the Member of Parliament. ‘Believe it or not, I’m trying to be helpful.’
Ford took it readily and placed it in the top pocket of his jacket. He had considered his visit to have been a complete waste of time but now he knew that he had a solid lead. He told himself that he would get to the bottom of this sordid matter if it killed him... and he didn’t realise how close he was to the truth of that comment!
***
Jordan was surprised to have to face Ford in his office the following day with a firm demand to explain all the details relating to the body exchange programme. The normal line of enquiry for Members of Parliament with similar requests for information was to approach the Chief Whip who would field the request and come back to the member concerned with the appropriate answer. If the issue had to be taken further, it would require the assistance of one of the Cabinet Ministers to explain the situation, or it could be brought up in Prime Minister’s Question Time which occurred every Parliamentary working day. However, by not wishing to pursue the proper line of investigation, it seemed quite clear that the Member of Parliament for Lavington intended to make a name for himself, avoiding all the normal channels of enquiry, to become a hero in his own right on what he considered to be a very serious breach of etiquette by the Government.
The government agent became affronted at being challenged directly on the very sensitive issue, and he was determined to fend off the attack at all costs.
‘How dare you charge into my office demanding answers to matters that have nothing to do with you or your constituents!’ he raved, after being asked point-blank about the prisoners at Lancaster jail.
‘But this has something to do with me because one of my constituents has been affected by your body exchange programme.’
‘Much to his advantage, I presume,’ countered Jordan acutely. ‘I bet he’s delighted at having a new lease of life!’
‘That’s nigh nor by,’ came the response. ‘I’m more concerned about the people who acted as donors. The one’s who died following the exchange. Have you given any consideration for them in their plight?’
‘Did any of them give consideration to the people they murdered?’ retorted the government agent equally as angry. ‘There are their victims out there whose lives have become a misery due to the actions of those prisoners. They’re also serving a life sentence in a different way... one that is eternally emotional! I think they would glorify in the knowledge that those who did them such awful harm are dead. Even better that their bodies are being used by other worthy people in society.. What could be better than that?’
‘Except that it’s completely contrary to human rights,’ rattled Ford quickly.
’Human rights!’ repeated Jordan slowly. ’What the hell are they? Personally, I don’t think that someone who kills another person has any rights at all.’ He paused to reflect the comment in the silence that intervened. ’So... you’re one of those do-gooders whose ideals turn everything in favour of the malicious perpetrator leaving nothing for the innocent victim. Well good for you, chum, but it brooks no emotions on my behalf.’
’Who’s your superior, Mr. Jordan,’ asked Ford, becoming tired of the discussion which was clearly going nowhere.
’The Minister of Science, Jeremy Ratcliffe,’ replied the government agent easily, realising that the matter was going to be taken out of his hands. ’Look... I don’t know where you’re really coming from. Your own Party’s in power yet you seem to be very keen to embarrass them. You do realise that you’re digging a mighty great hole for yourself.’
’I simply want to get to the truth,’ uttered Ford tiredly. ’You can’t destroy the lives of hundreds of prisoners and get away with it. It’s not right in any sense of the word! And when you run out of prisoners, who else will be available. I think that’s the most important question!’ Jordan failed to answer as the Member of Parliament shook his head. ’I suppose you’ll go on to the mental institutions and then to homeless people in the streets or anyone willing to accept cash for a body swap.’
The government agent was shocked to recognise the perspicacity of
the other man. Without prior information, he had placed his finger right on the button. ’I think you should go through the normal channels for this one, Mr. Ford,’ he suggested strongly. ’If you don’t, you’re going to do yourself a great deal of harm and affect the Government as well.’
’You can’t dissuade me from shying away from something as big as this,’ related Ford curtly. ’I want answers to a whole host of questions!’
’Well you can see Jeremy Ratcliffe if you wish but it won’t get you anywhere.’
Ford bridled at the comment. ’No, I don’t suppose it will,’ he returned sharply. ’But there are other ways and you can be sure that I shall use them.’
The government agent allowed his thoughts to play tricks on him and then inspiration came. If he intended to stop the man from pursuing his enquiries, it would be necessary to spread fear into his soul so he threw caution to the winds. ‘I’m not obliged to tell you this,’ he went on with a sombre tone in his voice, ‘but two people are being buried today because of their interference in the programme. The Government decided to act swiftly to eradicate them. I would not like to see it happen to you.’
The Member of Parliament sat upright at the news completely unfazed. ‘You’re lying!’ he accused angrily. ‘You’re doing everything in your power to dissuade me from going ahead with my investigation.’
‘Take it or leave it, Mr. Ford,’ concluded the government agent shrugging his shoulders aimlessly, ‘but I’m telling you the truth. You have no idea what you’re dealing with here. You’re putting your head into a noose. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll drop your enquiries before you get yourself into hot water.’
It was hardly surprising that the advice fell on deaf ears but the interview ended sharply and Ford went on his way somewhat angry but at least he had another lead... the Minister of Science! In his desperate attempt to pursue his cause, he approached the Speaker, asking for a question to be placed on the Order Paper for the following session of Parliament. When this came about, the Speaker announced Prime Minister’s Question Time which always lasted for a period of thirty minutes. Various Members of Parliament from all Parties then asked a number of questions affecting their constituencies or the rulings or actions of the Government which the Prime Minister was obliged to reply to with political astuteness.
