by Conrad Jones
The day after the incident in his cell, Jack looked battered and bruised and when asked what had happened, he didn’t grass. The other prisoners put two and two together and figured that his cellmate was a nonce. Everyone knew that Jack had been jailed for grooming a teenage girl but being held down and buggered in your cell wasn’t tolerated on the wings. The prison officers made the same conclusions and they moved Jack to a single cell that afternoon. Unfortunately, a new intake arrived unexpectedly. One of the new prisoners was a nineteen-year old shoplifter who had been sentenced to fourteen days for repeat offending. He was put in the only bunk available, which was beneath the nonce. That night he was attacked and buggered so severely that he saw out his sentence in a hospital bed. The entire wing was incensed and the nonce was sent to the block for a month with privileges removed. When he returned to the wing, the prisoners had planned a reception for him that he wouldn’t forget. The nonce went to take a shower the next day and the officers turned a blind eye while six men went into the showers and slashed him to ribbons with razorblades that had been melted onto toothbrushes. They set the blades a centimetre apart so that it was difficult to stitch and infections would slow the healing process, making it as painful as possible. He had required over three-hundred stitches. Jack remembered the incident like it was yesterday. His good fortune had led to a young man being brutalised in his place. Just like the orphanage. That was prison. If you put humans in a cage – they revert to being animals sometimes. Jack had made a point of trusting nobody since then.
Jack whistled an old Elvis tune as he pushed the trolley from the washer to the driers. There were four huge tumblers in a line, turning twenty-four seven. They were never dormant, even during shift changeover. They sucked the moisture from the air and made it uncomfortable to breath. He opened the door and grabbed an armful of laundry, bundling it inside and pushing it to the back of the drum. When the trolley was empty, he moved to the next drier and opened the door. It stopped rumbling and slowed to a halt. The laundry inside was bone dry and needed to be moved. Jack looked around for the other inmates that worked with him.
‘This load needs taking out, you lazy bastards!’ he shouted. Silence answered him. He waited a few moments for an abusive reply but none came. ‘Ellis, you lazy twat, where are you?’
Nothing. Only the drone of the machines turning came to him.
‘Ellis?’ Jack shouted. ‘Cooper?’
Nothing.
‘Ellis?’
The machines turned and the gurgling sound of a washing machine emptying made him jump. His co-workers had vanished. That wasn’t good. He backed up towards the washers, his eyes fixed to the exit. There was a wooden paddle near the washing machines. They used it to push laundry into the driers when they were hot. It was thick and heavy. If a predator thought they could attack him, they would have to chew on wood first. Ellis and Cooper were sex offenders too. No one else would work with them. He would give Ellis and Cooper a smack for fucking off and leaving him to face them alone. Cowards. The machines rumbled on. Sweat formed on his skin and he felt it trickling down his back. He listened intently and watched the exit for movement. All seemed quiet. He racked his brain for the answers to what was going on.
‘Jack Howarth!’ a voice shouted in his ear. He turned to face whoever had sneaked up on him and twisted straight into an uppercut, which connected with his jaw with concussive power. His glasses flew across the room and clattered along the floor and settled under the washing machines. A second blow landed on the solar plexus, forcing the breath from his lungs. His knees buckled and he felt white lightning flash across his brain. He would have collapsed but strong hands gripped his arms and held him fast. Black faces crowded in on him and he felt himself being carried across the laundry.
‘Listen to me, Jack Howarth!’ a deep voice growled. He recognised it. It belonged to AJ. His heart began to beat so fast that he thought he was going into cardiac arrest. He felt a sharp slap to his face and his vision began to clear. They stood him upright near the driers. The air was scorched and his throat was parched from the heat and the fear. ‘Are you listening to me?’
‘What have I done, AJ?’ Jack gasped. He couldn’t fathom why one of the prison’s senior hierarchy would be pissed off with him. He kept himself to himself and worked hard at avoiding the gangs, especially AJ’s outfit. ‘What have I done?’ he repeated.
‘You have been a sneaky bastard, Howarth, you little nonce,’ AJ said, wagging his index finger in his face. ‘And I don’t like sneaky bastards on my wing. It makes me feel uneasy when there are nonces on my wing, messes with my karma, you know what I mean?’ AJ towered above him, so big that he seemed to block out the light. His black skin seemed even darker in the fluorescent light of the laundry. ‘So, what am I going to do with you, Jack?’
‘Nothing, AJ!’ Jack blurted. ‘You don’t need to do anything with me. Why am I a sneaky bastard, what have I done?’
‘Oh, I think you know what you have done.’
‘I haven’t got a fucking clue, AJ, honestly I haven’t!’
‘You have been running errands for Charlie McGee on my wing,’ AJ chided. ‘Now I don’t like Charlie McGee and I don’t like his little rats running errands on my wing. I won’t have nonces running around doing errands for McGee.’ AJ tilted his head to one side. ‘Do you know what we do with nonces?’
‘No, AJ,’ Jack bumbled. ‘And I don’t want to know. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t done anything for Charlie McGee. I hardly know the guy.’
‘Now that is a huge mistake, Jack,’ AJ said, shaking his head. ‘I’m very disappointed.’
‘What?’ Jack looked at the men. ‘What mistake?’ he rambled. ‘What did I do?’
‘You lied to me, Jack.’ AJ grimaced. He gestured to the drier with his head. One of his men opened the door; the drum was empty. ‘I know for a fact that you know him.’
‘No!’ Jack knew what was coming. He had seen it happen to other prisoners who were sex offenders. One of them broke his neck and never walked again. ‘No, AJ! Don’t do this to me, please!’
The other men lifted Jack up and shoved him into the drum head first. He clawed at the edges with his fingers, desperately trying to grip to door. One of the men smashed his fingers with his fist. ‘Don’t, please!’
‘You can have a minute to yourself while you think about lying to me again.’ He nodded and his men closed the door and twisted the dial to a minute. Jack’s screams were muffled and incoherent. The drum clunked and rattled as he tumbled around against the drum. AJ watched the dial turn slowly. When it reached thirty seconds, he nodded and his men opened the drier. Jack was whimpering like an injured dog; his eyes were wide with panic. His nose was bleeding and he was covered in his own vomit. They dragged him out and he crumpled onto the floor. He curled up into a ball. ‘Do you want to go back in, Jack?’
‘No!’
‘Charlie McGee?’
‘Okay, okay,’ Jack said, his voice breaking. He spat a broken tooth onto the floor. ‘I fucking hate Charlie McGee, let’s get that straight.’ He pushed himself up to his knees. A bruise was forming above his right eye and a blister was rising on his cheek. The skin on his head and face was red as if he had been scalded. ‘He threatened my daughter. She’s vulnerable,’ Jack lied.
‘Vulnerable how?’
‘She is easy to find, exposed a lot of the time.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She works on the streets.’
‘She’s on the game?’ AJ sneered. Jack looked frightened. ‘I knew that.’ Jack looked at the floor. ‘What, you don’t think we do our homework?’
‘She’s an addict,’ Jack said, nodding, going along with his story. ‘She works the streets to buy her drugs and she’s vulnerable.’
‘I get the picture.’
‘McGee said that he had men watching her and if I didn’t do what he said, they would throw her into a van and …’ Jack choked on his words. ‘You know what said h
e would do to her, he’s fucking sick!’ Jack looked for sympathy but there none there. ‘He wanted Officer Clough’s fingerprints on some coin bags. I didn’t see the harm in stitching up a screw so I went along with it. I was only looking out for my daughter.’ He looked at AJ, hoping that his lie wasn’t obvious. He had done it for money and nothing else. ‘I didn’t mean to piss you off, AJ. I didn’t know you were enemies, honest.’
‘Where are the packets?’ AJ asked. He folded his arms. ‘I need them.’
‘What about my daughter?’
‘Do you think McGee is the only one with men on the streets?’
‘No.’
‘I need those packets, right now.’
‘They are in the filter on the far washing machine.’
‘Good man,’ AJ said. One of his men moved to retrieve the parcel. They were all over six feet tall, more reminiscent of a basketball team than a prison gang. He pulled open the drawer and pulled out the watertight package. He held it up for the others to see. ‘Carry on with your work, Howarth. Not a word about this, understand?’
‘Of course,’ Jack said, nodding. ‘I’m not a grass.’ AJ and his men walked away without a word. ‘AJ, you won’t tell anyone that I gave them up will you?’
‘What, anyone like McGee?’ AJ said, turning back to look at him. Jack nodded silently. ‘You can tell him yourself tomorrow. I’ve heard he’s on the hospital wing.’
‘What?’ Jack said, his voice a whisper. ‘He’ll kill me.’
‘You need to tool up, Jack,’ AJ said, grinning. ‘Carry something sharp and if he comes near you, stick it in his eye.’ He paused and winked. ‘Don’t worry too much, I’ve heard there’s a mark on him. Fifty-grand, I’ve heard. I think he’ll be busy watching his own back. Keep your head down and stay out of his way, you’ll be fine.’ Jack nodded and wiped congealing blood from his nose.
AJ and his men walked out of the laundry. A few minutes later, Ellis and Cooper walked back in, sheepishly. ‘Are you okay, Jack?’ Ellis asked.
‘Get fucked,’ Jack replied, quietly. He stood up and pushed past them. ‘There’s a load in that drier that needs shifting.’ He walked towards the exit.
‘Where are you going?’ Cooper asked.
‘To change my clothes if that’s okay with you,’ Jack said, sourly. ‘I’ve shit myself,’ he added as he left.
chapter 21
Matt Freeman was sitting in his car at the top of the Great Orme, looking down over Puffin Island and across to Anglesey. The wind was making the car shake and he watched the waves crashing against the mainland at Penmaenmawr; foam from the sea covered the coast road. He sipped coffee from a McDonalds cup and looked at his watch. She was thirty-minutes late. She was always fucking late. She had been late for every date they had ever been on and she was late for their wedding. Not fashionably late, twenty-fucking-minutes late. Everyone thought she had changed her mind, including him. She had no concept of punctuality. Even now, when he was on the run, she couldn’t turn up on time. The police had been to his house three times since Chris had thrown himself out of the car. He hadn’t heard from any of the outfit but he had heard that Charlie had been shot and banged up in prison. That took the pressure off him a little. With the ringleader locked up, the police wouldn’t be as bothered about his minions. That was his take on it, anyway. It might give him the time and space to leave the country.
The sound of an engine approaching snapped him from his thoughts. She was here. Her white VW Golf appeared over the hill and entered the little car park. She waved a hand and smiled. Her smile made him melt. It was her sad smile. She had two, one happy, one sad. The happy one made him glow but the sad one always sent him into a spin. They had been teenage sweethearts. He still loved her very much. When she hurt, he hurt twice as much.
She parked next to him and turned off her lights. The daylight was fading fast. Matt leaned over to open the passenger door. His wife, Sandra climbed out of the Golf and ran the short distance to his Range Rover. She climbed up and hugged him tightly. The smell of her perfume made him feel safe. She was his everything, wife, lover, friend, mother to his children, advisor, and the one person he trusted. Probably the only person he trusted, if the truth be told.
‘Sandra,’ he whispered in her ear. She held him tighter. ‘I’ve missed you.’ He pulled away from her a little and looked into her eyes. They kissed gently. ‘Are the kids alright?’ he asked as they parted.
‘No, they’re missing their dad,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘The police were around again last night. They turned the place upside down again, even went up into the loft. The kids are asking questions and I don’t know what to tell them, Matt. Shelby keeps waking up in the night crying and asking for her dad. They don’t understand why you’re not coming home.’
‘Tell them I’ll be home soon,’ he said, touching her face. ‘We’ll be together soon. I’ve got a plan.’
‘No, Matt,’ she said, frowning. ‘I’m not lying to them. If I tell them you are coming home and the police grab you, what then?’ Matt pulled away completely and looked out of the window. ‘How long do I tell them you will be? A year? Five years?’ she said, turning his face back to hers. ‘Could it be ten years? I can’t lie to them. That is cruel. It would make things worse.’
‘I don’t know what to say, San,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I’m not going to let them lock me up. That’s why I needed to see you face to face.’ He looked into her eyes and smiled. ‘I’ve arranged for a boat to take us to Ireland. We can go tomorrow.’ He looked deep into her eyes and saw confusion. They filled with tears and one fell onto her cheek. ‘Don’t cry, San.’ He touched her cheek with the back of his hand and wiped the tear away. ‘Everything will be alright if we got to Ireland, you’ll see. We need to get away from here.’
‘What are you talking about, Ireland for?’ she snapped. ‘Are you fucking mad?’
‘No. I’ve been giving a lot of thought,’ Matt said, calmly. ‘You me and the kids could get the boat to Ireland. I’ve got a friend who can sail us across. We’ll be safe in the south. I’ve got enough money put by to buy somewhere and to keep us going for a few years. The kids would love it over there.’
Sandra flicked her blond hair behind her ears and shook her head. She sighed loudly.
‘What makes you think that the kids would love it there?’ she asked, incredulously. ‘All their friends are here, their schools are here, their grandparents are here, their cousins are here, and I am here!’ She began to lose her temper. ‘What the fuck is there in Ireland that they would love? You are living in cloud cuckoo land.’
‘They would adjust,’ Matt replied, keeping his cool. ‘They’re young. It’s the only way I can stay out of jail.’
‘What about my mum and dad, Matt?’ she held up her hands and shrugged. ‘What do I tell them? “You won’t be able to see me or the kids again because Matt is on the run from the police.” Have you lost your marbles? Our lives are here.’
‘I’m trying to keep the family together, San,’ Matt pleaded. ‘I don’t know what else to do. Come on, I’m struggling here, San.’
‘You should have thought about that before you got mixed up with Charlie McGee,’ she said, wiping another tear from her eye. ‘I warned you what a bastard he is. Look at what happened to Stuart and Chris.’ She stopped to compose herself when her voice broke slightly. Matt held her for a moment but she felt distant. ‘I cannot believe Rebecca and Claire are dead. That poor woman. What must she have been thinking in that car? All because of fucking Charlie McGee.’ Her lip quivered. ‘I know Chris was a grass and he’s caused all this shit but he didn’t deserve what happened to him. None of them did. An entire family wiped out because you lot wanted to play gangsters.’ She shook her head and took a deep breath. ‘Well, it has blown up in your face hasn’t it and you expect me to uproot my children and take them away from their home, their friends, and their family?’ she shook her head again and looked into his eyes. ‘Not a chance, Matt. That is not happen
ing. You’re going to have to front this up. You need to swallow the medicine, not your kids, only you can do it.’
