“Sorry, Billy, I need to face him down — you better make yourself scarce before they get here.”
“No, no fucking way, Sean! There is no way I am leaving you on your own.”
“Billy, please, we don’t have time for this. I need you to go now.”
The pain on his face is evident, but he can’t be here. We argue for another few minutes and he is only convinced to leave when I tell him that I have something that Butler wants.
“Go on now. I promise I’ll be fine. Just stay away until you know that he has left.”
Billy has been gone less than two minutes when the advance party arrives to check that I am alone. The Scouser looks into my cell and, seeing that there is no one else, he nods to someone on the landing and Butler appears with two other heavies. As before, all four of them are armed and Butler chuckles to himself when he sees my makeshift toothbrush shank.
“What do you think you’re gonna do with the fucking toothpick, McMillan?”
I’m trembling slightly inside, but I refuse to allow this piece of shit to intimidate me.
“Why don’t you step forward and I’ll show you.”
“Nah, I think I’m good here, thank you. Any last requests before I cut your fucking eyes out, pig?”
“No request, just a question, what happened to my five o’clock deadline? I didn’t think you took orders from Cartwright.”
This makes him laugh again and shrug his shoulders.
“It’s not really an order when I’m going to get so much pleasure out it and, besides, a little bird tells me that you have been telling tales to your pig mates this morning. We can’t have that, so consider the deadline brought forward.”
“What if I told you that I have proof that I didn’t kill your cousin and that I can prove who did?”
“I would say that you’re a goddamn liar trying to save your own skin, McMillan.”
I go to speak again, but it is too late. Butler shouts at me to shut the fuck up and then nods to the Scouser, “Go on then Scouse, go on, all of you, fucking kill the bastard.”
A hard-looking Cockney, with a shaved head is the first to reach me, but he mis-times the swing of the length of steel pipe in his right hand, losing his balance. I take full advantage and jab the shank into the side of his neck.
The wound is not serious but blood spurts across the floor and he panics and runs from the cell, as the Scouser and a fat Jock wade into me with a length of chain and a sock filled with snooker balls. In the close confines of the cell it is impossible to dodge the attacks and without any serious way of defending myself, a crashing blow from the ball-filled sock slams into the back of my head and knocks me unconscious.
The next thing I am aware of is Butler’s voice and his weight crushing my chest as he straddles me on the floor.
“Wakey, wakey, McMillan, come on, it’s not nap time yet. We’re just getting to the fun part.”
My head is spinning, but I can see that Butler has his toothbrush weapon in his hand and is waving it back and forth in front of my face.
“Oh that’s better, you’re awake. Where should I start boys, his ears or his nose?”
I can barely focus, but I force the words out to save myself.
“Butler, wait, please! Look in my sock, please just check. DS Douglas killed Paul, not me.”
He stops waving the blade for a second, then he punches me in the face with his other hand. “It’s too fucking late, McMillan, orders are orders.”
“For God’s sake, Butler, those orders are from the man that killed your cousin. Just check my sock. If I’m lying, then you can kill me. Just check! You have nothing to lose.”
My last statement has left him unsure of whether I might just be telling the truth and after a second to think he nods to the Scouser.
“Mick, check his fucking socks.”
He moves towards my feet and pulls the legs of my sweats up to my knees and then pulls the digital recorder out of my left sock and hands it to Butler.
“What the hell is this, McMillan?” Butler asks.
“It’s the proof that Detective Superintendent Douglas murdered your cousin. It’s a digital recording. Just press play and scroll forward to 15.58 and listen.”
He is still straddling me and my head is banging from where the snooker balls smashed into my skull, but he won’t get off me until he knows that I am telling the truth, so I resign myself to lying there while he listens to the recording.
At the moment when Paul Donovan is dying, he almost looks like he is about to cry, but then his face changes quickly back to anger and he stands up and tells his thugs to leave.
“You two, get out and wait for me in my cell. Get up, McMillan, our business is done, but you need to do something for me now.”
I struggle to my feet and my head is still spinning, but I am hugely relieved to have got away relatively unscathed considering what could have happened.
“What is it you want?”
“We heard that you might be getting out today, and that’s why Douglas ordered Cartwright to have you taken out. With this you can finish Douglas.” Butler hands me the recorder. “Nail that fucker and make sure that he gets sent here.”
Even with everything that has happened, my conscience would not allow me to send Douglas deliberately to his death. Don’t get me wrong, he deserves the most painful death possible, but that would bring me down to his level.
The chances are, he would get remanded in custody here anyway. After that he is not my problem. For now, Butler’s focus is elsewhere, but that could change quickly if I don’t keep him happy, so I promise him that I will do my best.
“I’m sorry about, Paul. Nobody deserves to die like that. You have my word that I will nail Douglas. I want something in return, though. I want you to promise that when I am gone nobody touches Billy McGuigan.”
He is so wrapped up in thoughts of what he is going to do with Douglas that he agrees without hesitation.
“The kid is safe, you have my word — just get Douglas here.” Then he turns to leave and bumps into Cartwright coming into the cell.
“What the fuck is this, Butler? Why the hell is this piece of shit still breathing? Douglas is not going to be happy.”
The first Cartwright knows that it is coming is when Butler’s massive fist slams into his stomach and he doubles over.
“Stay the fuck out of my way, Cartwright, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
While Cartwright struggles to get his breath back, Butler leaves and then Taylor appears and drags his boss away and I sit down at the table to try to make sense of what has just happened.
Billy reappears a few minutes later and freezes when he sees the blood on the floor.
“Don’t panic, Billy, it’s not mine — well, not most of it anyway.”
In addition to a huge lump, the crack on the head from the snooker balls has also made a small gash in my scalp and Billy helps me clean the wound with a damp rag. After this he helps me to my bunk and gets to work wiping up the blood from the floor.
“So are you going to tell me what happened, Sean?”
“No, not really, Billy, the only thing you need to know is that there won’t be any more trouble from Butler or any of his crew.”
It’s 1.34 pm and by now Morgan will have briefed the Chief Constable and the Judge. It can’t be much longer now, but the fight has taken a lot out of me and I can barely keep my eyes open. Billy is still chatting away, but his voice is getting fainter and fainter. Unable to hold out any longer, I allow myself to sleep for a few minutes.
I actually sleep for just over an hour, but the throbbing in my head eventually wakes me up and I am unsteady on my feet when I cross the cell to wash my face in the sink.
“You sure you don’t want to get that checked out, Sean?” Billy asks. “That lump is the size of a fucking walnut. You might have one of those brain hemorrhoid thingies.”
“It’s a brain hemorrhage, Billy, not a brain hemorrhoid.”
&nb
sp; “Oh right, so what’s a hemorrhoid, Sean?”
“Have you heard of piles, Billy?
He screws his face up and then laughs.
“Oh yeh, that’s gross, my grandad had piles, he told me it was like having a bunch of grapes dangling off his bum. So shouldn’t you get yourself checked out if you’ve got a brain hemorrhage — isn’t that serious?”
Conversations with Billy can be difficult at the best of times, but it is moments like this that I thank my good fortune for ending up in his cell. Even without trying, his innocent ignorance always puts a smile on my face.
“Billy, just by the very fact that I am managing to make sense of this mindless conversation would suggest to me that I don’t have a brain hemorrhage, but thanks for your concern. I’m sure that I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, no worries, Sean. Oh, I forgot to say, while you were asleep, Mr. Bayliss put his head in the door and said that you need to get ready for going to court. He thinks that you might be getting out.”
“Really? How long ago was that?” I ask.
“Just after you fell asleep, he said that you need to be ready to leave at three o’clock.
It’s now 2.58 pm and I give Billy a look of annoyance.
“So, I’m leaving in two minutes then? Jesus, Billy, why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Sorry, but you were sleeping and it’s not like I have a watch, is it?”
He’s right, he doesn’t have a watch and I doubt that he can tell the time anyway, but I have a watch and I won’t be needing it for much longer. My hope is for Billy to get bail within the next few days, but just in case he doesn’t, my watch will get him a good enough price on the prison black market to keep him in a few luxuries until he does get out. I take the watch from its hiding place and I hand it to Billy.
“Here, take it, it’s yours.”
A few days ago he would have snatched it from my hand without hesitation, but now he is reluctant.
“I can’t, Sean, it’s yours. You keep it.”
“So, what if I told you that it’s not mine, I actually nicked it out of a locker in another police station?”
He thinks it over for a second and then smiles and takes the watch.
“Well that’s okay then, as long as it’s not yours.”
So that’s everything gone, all I have now are the clothes that I am wearing and the digital voice recorder stuffed in my sock. There is a chance that I may get searched on my way out of prison, but I’m not too concerned. Even if does get found, they won’t stop me going to court and if it gets taken, Catherine has the second recording on her iPhone.
Plus if the Chief Constable and Judge McCarthy have gone with Morgan’s recommendation, Douglas and Butterfield will already be wanted men and my release should be a formality.
I can’t explain fully to Billy what is happening yet, but as Bayliss enters the cell to process me out, I shake Billy’s hand and then pull him in for a hug. I’ve been in prison for just six days, but it feels like I am leaving a lifelong friend. I am almost sorry to be leaving, but Butler has assured me of Billy’s safety.
“Keep your chin up, Billy, my solicitor is working on getting you bail. Just stay out of trouble.”
He looks like he is choking up a bit himself and he probably thinks that I am just blowing steam up his arse about getting him out, but he is gracious enough not to say so.
“Yeh, not sure that I can promise to stay out of trouble. Trouble has a habit of following me around, but I’ll do my best.”
Officer Bayliss is impatient to get going, but as I get up to follow him out of the cell, Billy takes me by my arm.
“Sean, I never thought I would ever say this to a copper, but thanks for everything and good luck.”
If my experience in prison has taught me nothing else, it has taught me not to be so judgmental. There is an element of good in almost everyone and Billy McGuigan is living proof of that.
On the way to the reception area the atmosphere is decidedly more relaxed than it has been on the previous occasions when I have been escorted to visitation or to meet Jean Monroe.
Bayliss is in a particularly good mood and is happy to make small talk about the weather and football. On two occasions he ignores normal protocol completely and addresses me by my first name. Whether or not he is fully aware of the reason for my court appearance, it looks like he has decided to believe in my innocence and this feeling of normality is a much-needed boost.
By the time we reach the reception area, I’m feeling good and am excited at the prospect of getting into court and telling my side of the story. I should have known that the feeling wouldn’t last.
As the reception duty officer finishes off my paperwork and hands me a pen to sign for my court transfer, Cartwright and Taylor arrive and take handover of me from Officer Bayliss. Taylor is holding a pair of handcuffs and Cartwright orders me to put my hands behind my back. As Taylor cuffs me, Cartwright leans over and whispers in my ear.
“You look surprised, McMillan. Nothing to worry about though. We’re your escort and just here to make sure that you don’t get lost on the way to court.”
I try to speak, but my protest is cut off when Taylor yanks hard on the cuffs and pulls me towards the exit door to the vehicle yard. Seeing this, Bayliss steps forward to protest, but Cartwright blocks his way and orders him back to work.
“We can take it from here, Officer Bayliss, now do yourself a favor, turnaround and go back to the wing.”
He knows that something is wrong, but Cartwright is the senior officer and, after considering his position for a few seconds, he reluctantly complies and walks away. The reception duty officer has been quiet throughout and continues to say nothing. He looks down at his paperwork as Cartwright and Taylor lead me out into the yard to the waiting police van. The engine is already running and as we approach it, the back doors open and I am pushed forward by Taylor.
If I was in any doubt before as to what was happening, the sight of Sergeant Huntley pointing a non-standard issue revolver at my chest is the final confirmation. I have no idea whether a real pickup has been arranged already, but it’s perhaps irrelevant now. Clearly, DS Douglas or one of the others has got wind of the plan and has got here first. Between the crooked cops and the crooked prison officers, they certainly had the means and the opportunity to arrange it. The only question now is what the hell I can do about it.
If I get into the van without alerting someone to the situation, I might as well let Huntley shoot me now. Huntley, though, is being careful to remain at the back of the van and out of sight of the cameras in the yard. To anyone monitoring the cameras, the current scene would look completely routine. No, I need to get Huntley out of the vehicle waving the weapon around or causing some other commotion.
Getting impatient, Huntley tells me to get in the back of the van. To help me along, Taylor punches me in my lower back which gives me the chance to make my move. The punch itself is not particularly hard, but I use it to my advantage, falling forward with my chest resting on the tailgate of the van. I pretend to be winded. Taylor moves in close behind me to pull me up and as he does, I thrust my hips backwards into his balls and then I jerk my head backwards and smash the back of my skull into his face. Taylor drops to the floor with blood pumping from his nose and lips and Cartwright is momentarily stunned by the sheer savagery of my assault. He is only brought back to reality by Huntley shouting at him to get me into the van.
“Don’t just fucking stand there, you stupid bastard, get him in here!”
I had hoped to get further away from the van, but Cartwright throws his full weight on me before I can get more than a few meters. The bastard knows just where to hit me for maximum effect and his fist slams into the lump on the back of my head four times before my body goes limp.
He drags me by the cuffs to the back of the van and in a final act of defiance and with the last of my energy, I use my legs to push against the tailgate to stop them getting me in. Huntley leans out of the van j
ust far enough to be seen by the cameras as he pistol whips my legs with the butt of his revolver and then a second revolver is pushed against the back of my head.
I had been wondering where he was, but now Sergeant Bellmarsh leaves me in no doubt as to what is going to happen if I don’t get in.
“I suggest you stop fucking us around, McMillan — dead or alive, it’s all the same to us now.”
With no other choice than to comply, I relax my legs and Huntley drags me into the back of the van. Cartwright also tries to climb in with a dazed and bloodied Taylor, but Bellmarsh is having none of it and pushes them back.
“No, not you, our orders are just for, McMillan. Fucking hurry up and get the gates open for us before the cavalry arrives.”
Cartwright was clearly not expecting this and he starts to panic.
“No, please, we need to go with you. This is not what was agreed. Please you need to ta …”
His words are cut off by the revolver thrust in his face. “Get the fucking gates open, I won’t fucking ask again, Cartwright. And don’t even think of trying to fuck us over, or we will get to you.”
Bellmarsh slams shut the rear doors and gets back into the front of the van and then Huntley pushes the barrel of his revolver into my mouth as the vehicle moves forward towards the prison gates.
“Not a fucking sound, McMillan. I promise you that if you try to shout out, I will execute you without a second’s hesitation.”
I have absolutely no doubt that he is telling the truth. Warrants must already be out for many of the Network including Huntley and Bellmarsh. They have nothing to lose and killing me now is simply about making a point and getting payback.
I can’t see from inside the van, but we stop for a few seconds, presumably at the prison gates, and then we move forward and gradually pick up speed. When he is sure that we are clear of the prison, Huntley pulls me up off the floor and pushes me down onto a steel bench and trains his weapon on me again. He looks like he would gladly kill me right away, but he will have his instructions to follow so for now at least I know that I am safe. We drive for a few minutes in silence, but then he speaks.
The Network Page 19
