by Ian Jones
‘God no. But there’s some nice places in Carline, or anyways there used to be. My daddy used to take me there on my birthday.’
‘Where’s Carline?’
‘It’s a ways. About sixty, maybe seventy-odd miles, past the army base.’
‘Fine, let’s do that, it’s not much more than an hour.’
They reached the plant and John pulled in close to the barrier. The clock said 8:25.
‘Good timing,’ he told her. ‘What time will I pick you up?’
‘I’ll come to the motel, about seven ok?’
‘Perfect. I should be back by then. Here, this is my mobile number. If I’m not at the motel call me.’
John wrote down the number on the inside of the hire car map, tore it off and passed it over. They kissed quickly, and then she sprang out the car, always full of energy. John watched the guard at the gate make some comment and she gave him the finger in return then walked off toward the main building. She turned and waved, and he waved back.
Oh dear.
He liked her.
He drove back to the motel and parked up, wondering what to do before he left for the prison.
The three wise men were back sitting around their normal table, the breakfast dishes cleared away. Barlow had been short and abrasive all morning, particularly with Cane but even Abel had felt it too. There was no news, which Abel insisted was a good sign.
Barlow leaned his bony elbows on the table.
‘I only want to say this once. Friday is our most important yet. It must go without a hitch. Can I at least be assured that this is the case?’
‘Everything is arranged, there will be no problems,’ Abel assured him.
His mobile rang and he grabbed it up, glad of the distraction.
‘Right, thank you, I will find out,’ was all he said after listening for a while and he hung up.
‘That was Hunter. He has come up with a plan and it will be in effect today. He wants to know that the prison is still locked down. I’ll make the call.’
Barlow pursed his lips and nodded. Cane looked out of the window. As usual.
Abel’s second call was equally brief.
‘Right. Well they haven’t made any contact with the FBI that the lockdown is lifted,’ Abel said with a smile.
‘What the hell does that mean?’ Barlow demanded.
‘Well, I am no expert, but I imagine that the FBI will be waiting to be advised that the lockdown is over, don’t you?’
‘What’s to stop the FBI just making the call?’
‘They say it doesn’t work that way.’
‘Humph. I sincerely hope so. Where does Hunter say Smith is now?’
‘He is back at the motel. He spent the day yesterday walking around the town as we know. Hunter believes he is waiting for the FBI to give him the go ahead, so he is just wasting time.’
‘Right. Well he can’t do us any damage if that’s the case.’
‘Exactly. He also asked me to get Carter under control.’
‘What? Jesus, what’s he done now.’
‘He cooked up some idea, Hunter’s upset. He says he could have ended up down more guys.’
‘Ok. Speak to him. Remind him who the hell he works for.’
John really was just wasting time, so in the end he called Patrick, who was now even closer, having set up in San Antonio. Patrick had heard nothing regarding the prison.
‘You know what Patrick? I’m just going to get up there. I’ll chance it.’
‘It’s up to you. We filed your clearance anyway, so you only have to report in. Make sure you take your passport.’
‘Yeah, I’ll have it. But I’m going to let you down, I know it. This is going to be a waste of time. I still don’t think he’ll say anything.’
‘Maybe, maybe not. I’m hoping that he will feel it’s his victory, that he’s got one over on us, and you especially. People like to gloat you know. He might say something. I know he’ll never come right out and tell you who’s getting it done but something might slip, you never know.’
‘I’m sorry Patrick I can’t see it. He’s been inside for ten years. Not much to gloat about even if he’s getting out next week.’
‘No way it’s gonna be that quick, but yeah, I do know what you mean. I just feel that it’s a chance to try and find out what’s going on and why now.’
‘I’m gonna ask him about Barlow and Abel, that’s for sure. See what effect that has.’
‘Yeah? I guess so, can’t hurt.’
‘Right, well I’ll call you.’
‘Ok.’
John hung up the call and checked his watch. Close to ten. He didn’t need to leave for a while. He decided he would walk into the town and get a coffee from the shop he had seen. He left the motel heading for the high street, and then into the coffee shop. Like everywhere it was quiet. There was a young girl behind the counter grinning away at something she was typing in her mobile phone. She glanced up and did a double take, and then smiled even wider.
‘Hi!’ she said eagerly.
‘Hi. Can I get a latte please?’
‘Sure. Coming right up.’
The girl busied herself behind the counter, giving him sideways looks. John wondered what it was with the young women in the town. Maybe he should move here. The girl’s phone beeped so she grabbed it and typed something rapidly, then finished John’s drink. Her phone beeped again. The girl laughed.
She pushed the coffee across the counter. John dug a five out his pocket.
‘No, no, Rita says I can’t charge you,’ the girl said.
Ah.
‘Er right, well, thank you.’
‘I’m Katy by the way.’
The girl stuck her hand out, and John shook it. She was another pretty girl, probably the same age as Rita with black hair in a short bob.
‘Nice to meet you Katy. But, how do you know who I am?’
‘You kidding? Rita was texting me telling me all about you. She likes you John. This is a small town, how many British strangers do you think we have here?’
‘Right! Well, it’s great to meet you Katy. She told me about you too.’
‘I bet. You make sure you look after her tonight you dog.’
‘Er … yeah, I will.’
‘You break her heart I’ll hunt you down, believe it,’ she told him with a wicked smile and a wink.
‘I do believe it, and I’m not going to.’
John picked up the coffee and left, smiling. This really was a small town.
He sat by the rock and drank the coffee, which was very good. He looked at the sheriff’s office, but nothing was happening. There were two cruisers parked outside but no sign of anyone actually doing anything. He drank up and decided to head to Howarth. The sooner he got there, the sooner he would get back. With the FBI pass he probably wouldn’t have to stick too closely to the usual visitor rules.
He threw the cardboard cup in the bin and then walked back to the motel and got in the car. On a whim, he decided to drive out to the east and check out the army base, Fort Blunt. He wanted to see what else was around and if it was as big as everyone said, after all he had plenty of time. He drove down the hill then turned left in front of the town hall. The road ran straight off to the east, with a slight southerly bearing. He passed the gun club, which was still there and looked identical to eleven years ago. He passed through a small town that consisted of next to nothing, which had a huge roadhouse just outside, no surprise there, it would be packed most nights with soldiers he guessed. A few miles further and there it was. The base was more of a distance from Gray Rock than he had thought, over thirty miles but he saw it from a long way away, the surrounding land all around was pretty flat. There were high fences, and then a long stone wall, which curved in elegantly at the centre point where there was a wide access road. A huge sign said US Army Fort Blunt, and there was a large sentry hut in the centre with barriers across lanes on either side. In and out. He could see soldiers inside, and beyond lots of build
ings spreading out far into the distance. Neat and tidy, white painted kerb stones, lots of landscaping. An Abrams tank in the centre of a round grass lawn, visible behind the gatehouse. He had met many US military personnel over the years. Squared away, they would describe it. He drove past and then turned around at the next turning and headed back into Gray Rock, picking up the road north up the hill past the plant. He filled up at the petrol station and bought a bag of sweets for the journey then set off. An hour and a half later he reached Fort Stockton and his phone rang.
With the long straight roads and boredom he had bothered to connect his mobile to the car. He glanced at the number displayed which meant nothing. What the hell. He pressed the button on the steering wheel.
‘Hello?’
‘John?’
‘Er yeah, who’s that?’ he asked, knowing full well and with a big smile.
‘It’s Rita! Asshole.’
‘Yeah, I knew that. Sorry. So, how’s it going?’
‘Boring. It’s a bunch of Japanese people, all oooh and aaah at everything. You know. Their English ain’t too good so it’s kind of hard to follow what they are saying but they seem real excited by what they are looking at. They’re nice enough, these guys aren’t gonna show up at the party, trust me. Anyways they are getting shown round the research building so I’m sitting down at last. Hey fancy phone sex? I never did that.’
‘Me neither. But I’m driving, so probably not the best idea.’
‘Guess not. Well, I thought I’d check you hadn’t given me some bullshit phone number.’
‘Why would I do that? I’m looking forward to tonight.’
‘Yeah me too. Am I still pretty?’
‘Oh yes. Very.’
‘Good boy. Right answer. Now I know what I’m wearing tonight. Oh crap, what are these guys doing here?’
‘What?’ John was confused.
‘Jeez, I can’t stand these assholes. Sorry, I better go, see you later.’
‘No problem, see you at seven.’
‘Bye.’
John hung up and chuckled to himself. He would be leaving tomorrow, but with some fond memories. He would encourage Rita to get out too. After watching her in the diner that morning he could see some shiny poles on her journey, but she could make her own choices, live her own life. And she was sharp enough not to get taken.
He followed the road north and headed for Monahans, then Odessa. It was a long drive, the day was grey and dull. He picked up the signs and turned off halfway between the towns, the road he was on now narrow and straight as a ruler, nothing to see at all but wilderness on either side. After a long while a sturdy fence came into view to his left. Then there it was; the prison, massive, out in the middle of nowhere protected by a screen of three separate fences all topped off with miles of razor wire. The huge inner buildings were surrounded by tall white walls with watchtowers dotted all around. It was way more than a mile from the road to the inner wall. He couldn’t see how anyone could escape from here. If it was possible to clear the wall and then the series of fences where would anyone go? There was nothing for miles. He passed through a vehicle checkpoint without incident and then there was a huge ‘Texas Department of Corrections’ sign, with the name Howarth underneath. He slowed to make the turning and pulled up in front of a barrier. A guard walked slowly out of a small glassed in building at one end. John buzzed his window down and produced the authorisation email and his passport. The guard said nothing; just took them both back to his hut. John sat and waited patiently, listening half-heartedly to some dreadful songs on the radio. Five minutes passed and the guard reappeared, returning the documents, and the barrier went up. So far so good. The guard told him to drive through to the building instead of using the pedestrian entrance and visitor’s car park. He drove into a cage, with high thick mesh sides and a mesh roof. There were double gates closed in front of him. He stopped, and the set of gates closed behind him, and when they were completely shut the second set in front opened and he crawled through, to be stopped again by another pair. It was the same process; the gates closed behind and then the ones in front opened afterward. It was all controlled electronically. Once he was through the last set there was a car park to his right and he pulled up. He emptied his pockets; locked his wallet and mobile in the glove compartment and then made his way over to the visitor entrance. This was a narrow doorway, with a guard behind a thick glass window on one side and a heavy steel door in front. Once again John passed in the email and his passport. The guard looked closely at them and picked up the phone. It was impossible to hear his conversation but eventually he passed everything back and the door in front clicked open.
John walked in, and was immediately hit by the institutional smell of sweat, disinfectant and fear. He was now in a small lobby. In front was a closed in counter with two guards looking out, again sitting behind thick glass. There were cameras everywhere. One more time John pushed in the documents through a small slot in bottom of the glass. So far nobody had mentioned any lockdown, and he had got this far so he was optimistic. There were the same steel doors set on both sides and in front of him. The guards took their time reading carefully through everything and finally one moved to a microphone, pushing the email back through again.
‘Ok, Mr Smith. We’ve been expecting you. We’ll be hanging onto your passport. Go straight through the door to your left and wait. You will be met by an officer who will escort you through.
The door clicked open and John shoved the email into his pocket then pushed through into a small windowless waiting room with six plastic chairs bolted to the floor. More cameras. It was too warm in the prison, stifling with little air. There was a vending machine in the corner, so he got himself a coffee which was scalding hot and then sat down to wait. This time it took a while, but eventually a door opened on the other side and an elderly prison guard slowly walked in the room, wearing a smartly ironed uniform.
‘Mr Smith,’ he said.
‘Hello,’ John replied, standing up.
The guard gestured to him to raise his arms and then searched him carefully.
‘Follow me please sir.’
John stood up and followed the guard into the prison main. They went up two flights of stairs and down several passages and through a couple of controlled doors which followed the same stop/start procedure as the gates on the way in and then into a corridor which had numbered doors on the left and windows on the right. John glanced out as they passed, he could see into the exercise yard. There was a bunch of beefy black guys around the weight machines at the back, while many more prisoners; a mixture of black and white were playing basketball. Some were just sitting there watching. It actually looked quite peaceful but John knew these places were a powder keg.
The guard stopped at a door with the number three painted on it.
‘Ok Mr Smith. I have to tell you your conversation will be recorded. If you want to give anything to the prisoner you’ll need to knock on the door and give it to me first so it will be checked before I can pass it over, Ok?’
‘Fine, I don’t have anything anyway. Well, you searched me.’
‘I did, it’s just procedure, I got to tell everyone the same script.’
‘Got it. I’m just glad it’s going ahead. I was worried this place might still be in lockdown.’
The guard looked at him.
‘Lockdown? We haven’t had a lockdown here in a couple of years.’
That’s interesting thought John. He looked for somewhere to put his coffee cup but the guard grinned at him.
‘Hey, take that in with you. That’ll really piss him off.’
‘Oh yeah?’
John smiled back.
‘So can I ask how he’s been, any problems? Because of all the original fuss I’m told that they didn’t get any reports from here. To be honest, I’d forgotten all about him.’
‘Hell, I’ll tell you anything. It ain’t like I’m breaking any laws or invading his privacy. There ain’t none in here, bel
ieve me. Well personally, I think he’s an asshole, but then I got a long memory. This place opened eighteen years ago, and I been here since day one, so I remember his first day. He was cocky, totally sure he was getting out. The guy behaved like we were all way beneath him. This was in the jail. Once he was in the prison, it was all different. We have a separate segregation system here. We got solitary, like usual. And we got restricted, same as everywhere. But we also got this wellbeing unit, which speaking for myself I think is all bullshit. They started it about six or seven years ago, maybe longer. Anyways, he’s been in there ever since, he ain’t a popular prisoner here, was always whining and demanding. But he ain’t getting the shit kicked out of himself every day no more because of it. Last couple of years he’s been real quiet. Must have finally dawned on him, right?’
‘He had many visitors?’
The guard considered.
‘Tell you the truth, before the last couple of months I don’t recall any. Not one. But he’s had an attorney in here recently, month or so ago I guess. Didn’t stay very long.’
The guard opened the door and John walked in. He was in a small, square room with one plastic chair in it. In the centre of the room was a solid block wall over a metre high and the rest was thick glass up to the ceiling with a speaking grill set into the centre right in front of the chair. Through the glass John could see an identical setup on the other side. High on the wall on both sides was a camera. He sat down in the chair to wait, sipping the coffee which was still very hot.
Five minutes passed and then the door on the opposite side opened. A guard walked in and stood to one side, followed by Anthony Collis, who slouched into the room looking at the floor, the guard walked back out again and shut the door.
Ten years in prison had not been kind. Collis looked at least ten years older than he actually was. Pale and pasty faced, what little hair he had left hung raggedly about his ears. He had put on weight; not easily done in prison so presumably through lack of exercise. He was wearing thick glasses and peered uncertainly at John as he walked across and sat down. He dropped heavily into the chair and licked his lips nervously, his face expressionless.