The Network

by Ernesto H Lee

  This is about something much bigger and if my hunch is right about what Darren would find at Butterfield’s house, public trust in policing, local government and the judiciary in England is about to take an out-of-control nosedive.

  As we walk, I think back to the comment from Bayliss. He had said, ‘don’t keep them waiting’, so Jean must have brought somebody with her. The obvious choice would be Catherine, but perhaps she has taken the evidence straight to DCI Morgan. I will be happy whoever it is. I have decided already that I am forgetting protocol today and they are all getting hugs and maybe even a kiss. We pass the main visitation area and stop outside one of the interview rooms. Bayliss pushes open the door and gestures for me to step inside.

  “Good luck, McMillan, I will be waiting outside when you are finished.”

  Officer Bayliss actually seems like a decent guy and, whilst it is only a small gesture, his good wishes make me smile and I thank him. When I step through that door, a lot of lives are going to change for the worse — but for the ones that matter, well, they will change very much for the better.

  With a final nod to Bayliss, I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and confidently step through the door. Two of my visitors are sitting at the table and both are smiling as I enter the room.

  This is not the surprise I was hoping for this morning, though, and my look says it all. I turn back towards the door, but Sergeant Bellmarsh has already moved behind me to block the way and Detective Superintendent Douglas tells me to sit down.

  “You don’t look very pleased to see us, Sean. If I was a more sensitive man, I might find that offensive, but luckily, I’m not. You must have been wondering, though, when I was going to visit you. You’ve been a good boy so far, so I thought I would drop by to show my appreciation.”

  I could quite happily jump across this table and strangle this murdering fuck right here and right now, but Bellmarsh and Huntley would like nothing better than the opportunity to lay into me, so gratuitous violence will have to wait for some other time.

  I need to play along and get Douglas out of here as soon as possible. If Jean turns up with the evidence while he is still here, I will have a much bigger issue than Douglas pissing me off by pretending to be my friend.

  “Sorry, sir, it was just a surprise to see you all. What did you mean when you said I had been a good boy?”

  “Oh come, come, Sean. There’s no need for the modesty. You kept quiet during your interview. Given the weight of the evidence against you, that took a lot of guts. That goes a long way in my book.”

  Keeping quiet was nothing at all to do with protecting his miserable ass, and everything to do with protecting Maria, Ben, Carol and myself. Locked in here he has absolutely no way of knowing what I am up to, and by default there was no further reason for him to risk going after any of them.

  “Thank you, sir. When Sergeant Huntley came to my cell, he said that you would be able to sort this out if I kept quiet about what I know. Is that true?”

  “Yes, of course I can. We protect our own, Sean. As long as you keep cooperating, all of this will go away and you can get back to work.”

  “But how long, sir? I need to get out of here.”

  He hasn’t stopped smiling since I got here and I can’t work out if he is genuinely happy that I am playing the game or if he is just taunting me.

  “All in good time, Sean. A few more days, five at most and then I have a sneaking suspicion that Sergeant Huntley and Sergeant Bellmarsh are going to be involved in a stop and search of a known violent criminal. No doubt there will be an altercation during which the suspect will unfortunately pass away and during the search of his vehicle certain items will be recovered that tie him in to the scene of Paul Donovan’s death. I’m sure you get the picture.”

  So I was right about what I had said to Sergeant Huntley —they are going to fit up some other poor bastard for the murder. It’s even worse than I thought, though — they are going to kill him to ensure that he can’t defend himself in court.

  “You look a bit upset about our plan, Sean. Don’t worry, the person we have in mind is long overdue for culling. Tell me now if you have a problem with it. The other option is to leave you here. How are you settling in, by the way?”

  I could almost puke at the blasé way in which he talks about culling a human life as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do. It reminds me of the speech that Maurice Butterfield gave at Clive’s house when he had referred to ‘The Greater Good’. They have been doing this for so long that the lines between right and wrong have become so blurred as to be non-existent. As far as ‘The Network’ is concerned, they are Judge, Jury and Executioner and God help you if you get in their way.

  “No, it’s no problem, sir. It just takes a bit of getting used to.”

  He smiles again and then reaches across and pats my hand. “Good, now tell me about your accommodation, Sean. I heard that you had opted out of going into isolation. Is that a good idea?”

  “It’s fine, sir, I’m doing okay.”

  Behind me, Bellmarsh laughs and chips in his contribution to the conversation, “Some of those bruises on your face are new. Is that your definition of doing okay?”

  “He has a point, Sean,” Douglas adds. “Why not move into isolation and keep yourself safe until I can get you out?”

  The new bruises are from the headbutt delivered by Paul Donovan’s cousin, Frank Butler. Perhaps it is Butler that has told Douglas that I am on the wings and not in isolation. The connection to Donovan would make him an obvious candidate, but if it is him, then almost certainly Douglas will also know about our deal, which would mean that he is playing me.

  I dodge the question and, still conscious that Jean could arrive at any time, ask Douglas what the time is.

  “It’s nearly 12.30,” he replies. “Are you expecting someone else?”

  I make light of it and smile.

  “No, nobody coming that I am aware of. It’s lunch time soon and I’m bloody starving. The food is absolute crap, but it’s a long time until dinner.”

  “Okay, well, if time is against us, we had better get on with it then,” Douglas says with a serious look on his face. He turns towards Sergeant Huntley.

  “Sergeant Huntley, if you would be so kind.”

  Huntley places a folder on the table and pushes it across so that it is in front of Douglas. Douglas stares at me for a few seconds to build up the suspense and then he breaks out in another huge smile.

  “Sean, I have some good news for you. Despite what I said earlier, there has been a significant breakthrough in your case already.” He stares at my face for a few seconds to try to gauge my reaction, but when I don’t react, he leans forward in the way he always does when he wants to get a point across.

  “You have no idea what I am talking about, do you, Sean?”

  “Sorry, sir, no, I don’t.”

  “Your case, Sean!” he says enthusiastically, and then he shakes his head and tells me to cheer up. “It’s fantastic news. We have a suspect in custody already. Look at him, we caught him red-handed trying to escape from the scene of a burglary last night.”

  Douglas flips open the folder and pushes a picture of Darren across the table towards me and I feel my world falling apart again. I try to stand up, but Bellmarsh pushes me back down into the chair and Douglas verbally lays into me.

  “You fucking idiot, McMillan, you could have had the world on your plate, but now all you are going to get is a world of fucking pain.” Douglas shakes his head again disapprovingly and adds, “I make you this promise, Sean. You are going to regret the day that you ever tried to cross me.”

  I try to play dumb, but I know that he will have already made sure of his facts before coming here.

  “I’m still lost, sir. Who is this? How is this guy connected to my case?”

  Douglas looks up towards Bellmarsh and before I have a chance to react, Bellmarsh’s steel baton crashes down on my shoulder and I cry out with pain. Douglas nods again
and Bellmarsh pulls back my head and puts his hand across my mouth to keep me quiet and then he tells Huntley to get up and watch the door.

  “Do I look like a fucking idiot, Sean? Before the ambulance took him away, your friend gave us the name and a good description of who put him up to it. Unsurprisingly, the name was fake and the description meant nothing. Well, not at least until we played back the video feed for the past few days. To say I nearly fell of my chair when I saw who was sneaking around on the Assistant Chief Constable’s lawn at 8.15 pm on Saturday would be an understatement. How did you do it, Sean? Who are you working with in here? How the fuck did you manage to get out of here and back again without being noticed? According to the roll call you were counted at 7.30 and 9 pm and again before lights out on Saturday. How the fuck is that possible to get to Cobham and back between those times?”

  My latest plan has clearly failed, but the one small consolation in all this is that Clive has no idea how I could possibly be in two places at once. Bellmarsh takes his hand off my mouth to let me reply and I allow myself the satisfaction of a smile.

  “Go fuck yourself, Clive!”

  Bellmarsh moves to strike me again, but Douglas stops him. “Hang on, Peter. We can’t send him back to the wing with a broken shoulder. Young Sean has pissed on his own chips now anyway. His little protection order is about to be revoked, the problem will sort itself out soon enough.”

  So that answers my earlier question; he knows about my deal with Butler. The shit is getting deeper by the second, the only question is how deep it is going to get. He hasn’t mentioned if Darren managed to get into the house or to take anything, but he did mention an ambulance, so Darren must be hurt. I want to ask about him, but I don’t want to give Douglas the satisfaction. He reads my mind, though, and smiles.

  “You picked him well, Sean. I think even without your help, Darren would have very nearly pulled it off; he is a very talented burglar. If he hadn’t been so noisy on his way out, he would probably have got away with the boss none the wiser until the next day. It’s a shame that his escape and evasion skills are not the same as his burglary skills. Maurice cornered him at the end of the garden and when the stupid fucker jumped into the reeds to get to the river the boss had no other choice and gave him both barrels.”

  My face crumples again when I hear that Darren has been shot and Douglas jumps on my obvious despair.

  “Aww, don’t look so upset, Sean. The bastard is still breathing; he should count himself fucking lucky that I wasn’t there.”

  “So, that’s it then,” I say. “It’s over, you’ve won.” I try to stand again to leave and, ignoring the earlier instruction, Bellmarsh punches me as hard as he can in the side of my head knocking me sideways off the chair.

  “It’s not over until we fucking say it’s over, shithead!”

  “Thank you, Sergeant Bellmarsh, let’s control ourselves,” Douglas advises. “Now pick him up, please.”

  My fall to the floor has been heard by Officer Bayliss in the corridor and he knocks on the door to check the reason for the noise.

  Huntley holds him outside long enough for Bellmarsh to pull me up and, as Bayliss looks in, Douglas apologizes and explains that he was rocking on his chair and fell backwards.

  “No damage done though, Officer. My skull is like a rhino’s.”

  Satisfied with the explanation he leaves and Huntley resumes guarding the door.

  For a few seconds, Douglas says nothing. He is obviously thinking what to say next and I can’t imagine what it might be. There is surely nothing much more that he can say to make things any worse than they already are. My protection from Butler has gone and my hopes of the cavalry arriving to save me in the form of Jean Monroe are over for now at least. What more could he possibly say to make things any worse for me? When he does finally speak, his next questions are not what I am expecting.

  “What was he meant to do with it all, Sean? What did you tell him to do with it? Was somebody else with him last night? Where was he meant to take it?”

  I shrug my shoulders and ask why it matters.

  “It makes no difference now, Douglas. You have everything back. So, like I said, it’s over. You’ve won.”

  He should be smiling at this statement. He should be dancing in celebration at his victory, but he’s not. This doesn’t make any sense and for a second I am confused as to what is happening. Then Douglas does something that I would never have expected from him in a million years — he lets his poker face slip and the realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Jesus fuck, they don’t have the stuff! Darren must have dropped it somewhere and they haven’t found it yet.

  I can’t help smiling and Douglas knows why.

  “Don’t celebrate too soon, McMillan. As soon as your buddy is out of surgery, my boys here are going to be paying him a visit. He will talk soon enough, believe me, he will fucking talk. Even if he doesn’t, you’ve got nastier bastards than me to worry about. Hunting season has just started as far as you are concerned.”

  The thought of it is making me feel sick, and without Butler’s protection my chances of staying in one piece for more than a couple of days are slim to none. Another opportunity has just opened itself up to me, but staying alive to take that opportunity is far from certain. I stand up and this time Douglas tells Bellmarsh to let me go. Huntley opens the door and steps to the side to let me out.

  Bayliss, who is completely unaware of what has just gone down, smiles and asks me if my visit went well. I am about to answer when another door opens at the end of the corridor and an excited Billy steps out like the cat who has just got the cream.

  Bayliss calls him over and tells him that he can come back to the wing with us. Billy can barely contain his excitement and who could blame him? Normally, we are not allowed to talk whilst under escort, but on this occasion Officer Bayliss makes an exception and he happily chats with Billy.

  “You look happy, McGuigan. I take it that your conjugal with your girlfriend went well?”

  Billy has no idea what a conjugal is, but after thinking about it for a second, he smiles and innocently answers.

  “It was brilliant, Mr. Bayliss, I got fucked!” And then, turning to me, “What about you, Sean? Did you get fucked as well?”

  After everything that has just happened, this moment of unintentional humor is a welcome relief and I laugh.

  “Yes, Billy, you could say that. I just got well and truly fucked!” We both laugh, and Billy high fives me.

  Bayliss also laughs and then gets serious again.

  “Okay, then, let’s get you pair back to the wings before you miss lunch completely.”

  During the lunch service I sit apart from Billy as usual. Before this morning it was a case of what might happen if anything kicked off. Now it’s what might happen when it does kick off and I won’t risk Billy getting hurt after everything he has done for me.

  On the way here, I had warned him to keep away from me completely unless we were alone in the cell. There should be no conversation, no gestures, and no acknowledgement of any kind, no matter how innocent it might appear.

  Over the last few days I have grown to like Billy, and was touched by his reaction when I asked him to stay away from me. He had stopped me outside the canteen and told me that he didn’t care what others thought. It was only when I insisted that we shouldn’t be seen together that he had finally relented.

  Now, with my meal in front of me, the atmosphere is no better or worse than ever. Senior Officer Cartwright catches my eye a few times, but no more than he does anyone else and a few times Butler appears to be looking in my direction, but there is no menace in his eyes and I start to feel like I might be paranoid.

  This is until Officer Taylor walks over to my table.

  “McMillan, don’t rush away after your lunch. We’re short-handed in the kitchen today. You can help with the washing up for an hour.”

  There is no point even trying to protest this instruction, the shades of separation are
obvious amongst all of the key players. Douglas was connected to Donovan, who was related to Butler, who is Senior Officer Cartwright’s partner in crime. Cartwright and Taylor obviously feel that they have nothing to worry about now that they have a direct link to DS Douglas.

  I have to say that I didn’t expect it to be so soon, but I guess the kitchen with all its dangerous implements is as good a place as ever to meet my end. When the dinner service ends, the rest of the cons make their way back to their cells and Taylor points towards the kitchen.

  “Go on then, McMillan, there is a pile of greasy pots in there with your name on them.”

  This is the first time that I have been inside the kitchen, and my sudden arrival causes work to stop while the cons crowd round to look me up and down suspiciously.

  I recognize most of the cons that work on the hotplate, but a few others are less familiar. I was expecting to see Butler or his henchman, or at the very least the Chinaman, but with their absence I start to relax until a huge guy with a square jaw and a greasy ponytail pushes his way through the crowd and walks towards me.

  Instinctively, I lunge for the nearest thing at hand and I square up to him with a cast-iron frying pan. He stops and looks me up and down and then throws a scummy-looking pan scrubber in my direction.

  “You can put the fucking frying pan down, lunch is over, dipshit!” Then, pointing to a sink full of pots and pans, “That’s your pile over there, I suggest you fucking get a move on if you don’t want to be here all afternoon.”

  He turns away and tells the other cons to get back to work and then leaves me standing like an idiot holding a frying pan above my head and wondering why the hell I am here, because as sure as eggs are eggs, it’s not because they are shorthanded.

  In the end it takes me just over an hour until the kitchen supervisor is satisfied with my efforts and allows me to leave. As I head back to my cell, I am still none the wiser as to what my stint of pot washing was all about, but it all becomes clear when I see the state of our cell. Billy is doing his best to tidy up, but it is obvious that the searchers have only just left.