The Network

by Ernesto H Lee

  Cartwright and Taylor are in their usual spot next to the tea urn and whilst they seem to look at me longer than would normally be warranted, they also seem distracted and don’t notice as I drop the ID badge behind the table holding the urn.

  After collecting his food, Billy takes a seat at a table next to the one I am sitting at. Taylor sees him first, but the Saturday breakfast has his full attention and he is completely oblivious as Cartwright charges across the room and drags him backwards off his chair. I could have called out to warn him, but that would call unnecessary attention to myself, which is not part of the plan that I had shared with Billy before breakfast. It suits me better for him to be caught off guard. Genuine fear and surprise is far better than play-acting.

  “I fucking knew you were up to something, you thieving Brummie twat!” Cartwright shouts.

  Billy looks absolutely terrified and as he is pulled to his feet, he is most definitely not acting. The tears building up in the corner of his eyes are all too real as Cartwright strikes him across the face with the back of his hand.

  “Where the fuck is it? You had better not have sold it or fucking lost it.”

  Obviously, apart from Officer Taylor, Billy and me, nobody else in the canteen has the slightest idea what Cartwright is talking about. If it’s going to go wrong, now is the time, but Billy plays a blinder and acts completely dumb.

  “What? I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about, you bloody maniac! Get the fuck off me!”

  Cartwright loses it completely and punches Billy with his full force in the stomach. Billy goes down on the floor clutching his stomach and a few of the prisoners shout out their disapproval, causing Cartwright to turn on them with his baton drawn.

  “Shut the fuck up, you maggots! Anyone else who makes a fucking comment can come and join him. Get back to your fucking breakfast!”

  None of them wants to challenge Cartwright and they all turn away, but the rumblings continue at a much lower volume.

  Billy is back on his feet and he takes a few steps backwards so that he is closer to the tea urn. Cartwright follows and grabs him around the throat. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, Billy boy?” He isn’t choking him, but I can see that Billy is in pain. Despite the fact that I will be paying him again for this, he has done more than enough already to earn my respect and future help. I just pray that he can keep the act going and finishes this before Cartwright beats him unconscious or knocks him out.

  “Now, I’m going to ask you one last time. Where the fuck is it, McGuigan?”

  The baton is back in its holster but Cartwright’s fist is clenched ready to strike again. “You’ve got two fucking seconds to answer me, McGuigan.”

  Billy knows that another punch is coming, but he keeps up the pretense.

  “Really, please — I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Cartwright.”

  “My badge, my fucking badge, you fucking thieving little bastard!”

  “Whaa, what badge?”

  As planned, Billy pulls away at exactly the right moment and spins so that he is directly facing the tea urn. Cartwright’s fist slams into his shoulder sending Billy crashing to the floor in front of the table.

  “I’m gonna fucking kill you, McGuigan!”

  Cartwright has hold of Billy’s legs and is pulling him backwards when Billy calls out and points underneath the table.

  “Wait! Look — by the wall! There’s something by the wall.”

  Cartwright motions to Taylor who drops to his knees and climbs under the table. A few seconds later he emerges and hands over the ID badge to Cartwright.

  “It must have come off when McGuigan bumped into you, boss.”

  Cartwright looks at the badge and then back down at Billy on the floor. He knows that something stinks, but he can’t prove anything and now the rumblings from the rest of the prisoners have started again. He is in danger of losing face massively, so for now he accepts that the loss of his badge could have been an accident.

  “Fucking stand up, McGuigan.”

  Billy is shaking, but apart from the slap to his cheek and the punch to the stomach, he is otherwise unscathed and soon he will be another forty quid better off.

  “Really sorry, sir. It must have come off when I fell in to you.”

  Cartwright is still angry and is in no mood for any more of Billy’s bullshit. “Get back to your fucking table, boy. I’ve got my fucking eye on you.”

  When Billy gets back to his table, he laps up the attention and applause from the rest of the cons. We seem to have gotten away with it for now and he did well, so it is nice to see him enjoying a few minutes of prison notoriety and fame.

  The rest of the breakfast service passes off without incident and, as agreed, Billy doesn’t try to get my attention, which is just as well because Cartwright doesn’t take his eyes off him until he leaves to go back to our cell. I follow a few minutes later and find him sitting on my bunk waiting for me.

  “How are you, Billy? That slap looked fucking painful.”

  He rubs the side of his face and then says with a shrug, “Ah, it was nothing really. The punch in the guts was worse. I think it worked. What do you think, Sean?”

  I smile and tell him to move over, “You did a great job, Billy. Shift over so that I can get your money.”

  He grabs my hand to stop me and says, “I don’t want the money, Sean.”

  This takes me by surprise and I sit down next to him. “What do you mean you don’t want it? You bloody earned every penny of it. Move over, ya silly bastard, let me get your cash.”

  This time when he grabs my hand, he is more insistent, “Sean, please, no. I don’t want cash, I want something else instead.”

  I think that perhaps he might ask for more weed or other drugs, but as I look at him, his face grows redder and redder with embarrassment.

  “What is it, Billy. Why are you blushing?”

  For a second, he doesn’t say anything and then he leans forward and quietly tells me what he wants instead of the cash. When he finishes, he still looks embarrassed, but relieved to have got it off his chest. His request is a surprise, but I can understand why he would want it.

  “Wow, Billy! I wasn’t expecting that. That’s not going to be easy to sort out.”

  “After you gave me the weed and the cash the first time, you said that you could sort stuff out and get things. Well, I have done everything you asked me to; now I want you to sort this out for me. If you don’t, then don’t ask me for anything else, Sean.”

  “And if I do sort it out, Billy?”

  He smiles and says, “If by some miracle you do manage to sort it out for me, I will be in your debt again. What’s fair is fair, Sean.”

  I nod my agreement and mouth the words, what’s fair is fair. “So, is that it, Billy, any other miracles while I’m at it?”

  “Yep, there is as a matter of fact.”

  He tells me what the second request is and I laugh. “Sure, why not? If the first request doesn’t work out, they might soften the blow.”

  With the matter settled, Billy shakes my hand to seal the deal and then he climbs up onto his bunk to sleep off his breakfast. With nothing else to do until lunch, I lie down on my own bunk to rest until I am disturbed an hour later by Officer Bayliss barging into the cell to tell me that I have a visitor again.

  “McMillan, on your feet, lad. Your solicitor is here to see you.”

  Given that it’s a Saturday morning, I am hoping that Cath has managed to get the information that I asked her for and passed it on to Jean. I can’t imagine that she would be here at the weekend otherwise.

  Unlike on previous occasions, I can see already that Jean is not expecting this to be a long meeting. If it were, her legal pad, pen, and voice recorder would be out on the table. Today, she is dressed as formally as ever, but her briefcase is on the floor beside her and I can see that it is locked. There is a white A4 envelope on the table in front of her and she asks me to sit down and then asks
my escort to give us some privacy. As soon as he is gone, she slides the envelope across to me and turns it over so that I can see my name in Catherine’s handwriting.

  “This is from Detective Constable Swain and I have to say, Sean, that I find this whole thing very irregular. Particularly after what you told me on Thursday about DC Swain. Are you sure that you can trust her?”

  This is another one of those questions that I really don’t know the answer to and a lot will depend on the contents of the envelope. “Yes, Ms. Monroe. I think I can trust her. She came to see me yesterday and I asked her to pass this on to you. She could have walked away and said no, but she didn’t.”

  Jean is less emotionally attached to Catherine than I am and she looks doubtful.

  “You haven’t seen what’s in the envelope yet, Sean.”

  I mistakenly take this comment to mean that Jean has seen the contents and that it is bad news for me.

  “Why do you say that? Have you already seen what’s in the envelope?”

  “Please don’t offend me, Sean. The envelope is addressed to you and even if it wasn’t, I rather suspect that it’s probably for the best if I don’t know what is inside. I think, though, that you should open it, just in case it’s not what you were expecting.”

  I catch Jean’s eye and tell her that she might want to look away. “You have my word that it’s nothing illegal, Jean, but you’re right, it’s perhaps better if you don’t get too involved.”

  Instead of looking away, she reaches down to her briefcase and takes out a newspaper. “You have five minutes before I bill today’s session, Sean,” she says and starts to read the newspaper.

  I tear open the envelope and lay out its contents in front of me. Catherine has been as good as her word and got me everything I asked for, including the two recent photographs and address details of my next targets. Without these, my next trips would have been extremely difficult, if not impossible. She is not fully vindicated yet, but this gift from Cath has done a lot to restore my faith in her. I carefully place each of the items back in the envelope and then, to Jean’s astonishment, I stuff the envelope down the front of my sweat pants.

  “Just a precaution, Jean. I don’t want to lose it after the effort you and Catherine have gone to just to get it to me.”

  “Yes, quite. Well, with regard to your case, nothing new has come to light since we met yesterday, so if there is nothing else, I will bid you good day.”

  In my excitement at having the items from Catherine, I nearly forget to ask her about Billy’s first request until she is at the door.

  “Sorry, Ms. Monroe. I nearly forgot. I need something else from you. It’s a strange one, but it’s important.”

  She sits back down and listens as I take her through the details of the request. If I had asked for this a week ago, she would probably have turned me down flat immediately, but with each passing meeting, she is now getting more and more used to bizarre or unorthodox requests from me and she agrees to look into it.

  “If it’s a problem, Jean. Please speak with DCI Morgan. I’m sure that deep down he doesn’t believe that I am guilty. If you have to, tell him that I am working on my case from in here, but if he can help out with this request, it will really help me.”

  She nods her agreement, but she is already on her feet again to leave.

  “This really is the most bizarre case that I have ever been involved in, Sean.” Underneath her professional exterior, I am sure that I can detect a smile and her last words before leaving confirm it, “It’s also one of the most exciting cases — have a good day, Sean.”

  When I get back to the cell, Billy is exactly where I left him and snoring even more loudly than he was last night. I can’t resist having a bit of fun. I climb up, lean over him, and shout in his ear, “Fire! fire! fire!”

  The rude awakening scares the life out of him. Whilst he doesn’t actually shit himself, he does let out a massive and foul-smelling fart.

  “Aw, Jesus, Billy, that fucking stinks,”

  He is laughing so hard that he can hardly speak. When he does, his thick Brummie accent is even more unintelligible than it is normally.

  “Serves you fucking right, McMillan. Go on, get a good lungful of that. Fucking hell, it’s lucky those sausages tasted better than they fucking smell. You scared me half to bloody death. I fucking nearly followed through on that one.”

  When he finally calms down and stops laughing, he asks how my visit went. “Any progress on your case, Sean?”

  I pull the envelope out of my sweats and stash it away with my other items and say, “Yep, you could say that, Billy.”

  Billy sees the envelope, but he doesn’t ask about it, instead lying back down again. I tell him about the end of my meeting with Jean.

  “I asked my solicitor to make some enquiries about your request.”

  Hearing this gets his attention again and he sits back up.

  “Really, what did he say? Does he think it’s possible?”

  “It’s a she, Billy.”

  “What’s a she?”

  “My solicitor is a woman and yes she thinks that it might be possible. Don’t get too excited, though, until I speak to her again.”

  As far as Billy is concerned it’s already a done deal. “Nah, it’s gonna happen, I know it. I trust you. Sean.”

  I am about to say more, but he has already rolled back over to go back to sleep. Within seconds, his breathing becomes heavy and the snoring starts again. I don’t know how he manages it, but I hope that he is dreaming of the treat to come. God knows, he deserves it.

  In the end, he sleeps so soundly that I have to wake him up for lunch. He tells me that he is not hungry but, after reminding him that dinner is not for another five hours, he rubs his eyes and gets out of bed. On the way to the canteen, I keep a discrete distance behind him so that we don’t attract the attention of Taylor and Cartwright.

  Taylor is standing next to the urns, but for once Cartwright is not with him. I think that perhaps he has finished early for the day or is on duty in another part of the prison, but then I freeze when I see him chatting with Butler next to the hotplate. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but twice they stop talking and look in my direction, before Cartwright moves away and takes up his normal position next to Taylor. Billy is in good spirits and is laughing and joking with some of the other cons at his table, but despite his earlier run in with Cartwright this morning, I am convinced that every time I turn around Cartwright is watching me and not Billy. Halfway through my meal, I make up my mind to test my theory and I walk over to the urn to get a cup of tea.

  Cartwright follows me with his eyes the whole time and, as I go to fill my cup, he puts his hand in front of the tap.

  “Not so fast, McMillan.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Cartwright, I just want to get a cup of tea.”

  He looks me up and down as if he is trying to place me somewhere and then he asks about Billy.

  “You share a cell with McGuigan, don’t you?”

  Taylor answers before I can, “They share a cell on the first floor of ‘A’ wing, boss.”

  Cartwright would have known the answer already, but he smiles as if he has just answered correctly the final question in ‘Who wants to be a millionaire’. He nods towards the urn and then he pushes down the tap to fill my mug.

  “Go on then, fuck off and drink your tea, McMillan. It’s been nice chatting, let’s do it again soon.”

  He is definitely onto me and his final statement is a warning, not a pleasantry — the only question is, what is he on to? Either he recognizes me from Lulu’s or Butler has told him about the weed. Somehow, I think that my afternoon is going to be interesting.

  Straight after lunch, Billy asks me if I want to go to the TV room, but I decline and lie down on my bunk to wait for Cartwright. I am hoping that he comes while Billy is out, but no such luck.

  Three hours pass without any sign of him and eventually Billy gets bored of daytime television and comes back into the ce
ll with a pack of playing cards. I can’t concentrate properly on the game, but I humor him and play poker for matchsticks, until finally Cartwright appears at the cell door at just after four o’clock.

  Taylor is with him, but he waits outside as Cartwright steps inside.

  Naturally, Billy thinks that Cartwright is here for him and he once again starts to protest his innocence before Cartwright shuts him up.

  “Shut it, McGuigan. I’m not here for you, this time. Why don’t you go down to the TV room for a while? I need to have a little chat with your buddy.”

  “But I just came from there, Mr. Cartwright,” Billy replies.

  Cartwright steps forward to grab Billy, but Billy dodges him easily and darts for the door. Taylor pulls the door closed leaving me alone with Cartwright and he sits down in Billy’s seat and puts his baton on the table in front of us.

  “This morning when I saw you in the canteen, I thought that you looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite work out where I might have seen you before, so I assumed that I must be wrong. Then my curiosity got the better of me and I pulled your file and saw that you were sharing this little palace with McGuigan. The same thieving little bastard who tried to steal my name badge.

  “So then I thought to myself, maybe it’s just a coincidence, but I don’t fucking believe in coincidences, McMillan. They don’t fucking happen in prison. Every fucking con is up to something and you’re no fucking exception. So I did a bit more digging and what do you think I found out? Go on, have a guess.”

  He was talking to Butler at lunch so I guess it has to be the drugs, but I don’t answer.

  “Don’t act so fucking innocent. You know what I found out, don’t you? I found out that Prisoner McMillan is fucking smuggling drugs into my fucking prison. But if that wasn’t enough, then came the icing on the fucking cake. Guess what else I know about you? Go on, McMillan, what do you think it is?”