by Ted Tayler
Colleen had to think fast.
“There has to be someone in here who can make you ill, Tommy. Fix you up with dodgy food, get you moved to the hospital wing. It could buy us a few days.”
It was time for visiting to end. That was three weeks in a row. They had to take a break next week no matter what. Colleen got ready to leave.
“I’ll see you when I see you then,” said Tommy.
Colleen nodded. Her husband looked to have aged ten years since he came to Belmarsh.
Tommy watched his wife as she walked away. He had to get out of this place. To sort a twenty-four-hour bug might be a tricky one, it would be far easier to convince the screws he was depressed and get him placed on suicide watch. The breakout plan had to work this prison lark was driving him nuts.
Colleen called Sean from the taxi. As she waited for her brother to answer she wondered where the guy was who drove her last week. Colleen gave the new driver a cold stare when she thought he was earwigging. Sean agreed to drop round to see her first thing after lunch. He was seeing Hugo Hanigan at eleven.
The doorbell rang at two fifteen.
“I’m guessing you had a late lunch then, Sean,” said Colleen, as her brother wandered indoors.
Sean looked around him. The hallway was stripped of the family photographs that hung there for years. Through the open door into the lounge, he could see the minimalist look had spread.
“Blimey, sis, I don’t recognise the place. Where’s everything gone?”
“What did you drive over in, Sean?” asked Colleen.
“Just the car, why?”
“Can you borrow a van? I need to get these bags up the tip.”
Sean followed his sister to the kitchen. He gave a low whistle when he saw the number of black bags she had accumulated.
“I don’t know what Tommy would say if he saw this,” he muttered.
“We’re getting him out of prison, so he can have an extended foreign holiday,” said Colleen. “He’ll never be able to come back here whatever happens.”
“Now you mention that,” Sean hesitated, “when did you say it was, on the phone?”
“They’ve got him on the sheet for Tuesday. I told him to go sick, do something to give us more time. He’ll call you if there’s a change.”
Sean shook his head.
“What?” asked Colleen.
“It doesn’t give us much time. Next Tuesday, or the Tuesday after, it’s still going to be a devil of a job.”
“Grow a pair, Sean,” said Colleen. “Ever since the day Tommy got sent to prison I told you we must try to get him out. When I saw him yesterday, he was like an old man. He’s shrinking in there. He’s looking more and more like Tommy Senior used to look, and you know what a tosser he was.”
“Let’s make a start on these bags,” said Sean, “we can chat on the way to the tip. Are any of these likely to leak? Only I don’t want to ruin the leather on the back seats of my car. Put the dodgy stuff in the boot, I’ve got a liner in there.”
“Yeah,” said Colleen, “like these bags are our top priority, Sean. Let’s load up your car. You drive, I chat, and you listen, okay?”
Colleen knew her brother meant well, but he had never been a leader. She could tell she would have to come up with the ideas on this job. Sean would nod in the right places, find the muscle to carry it out, the same as always.
Sean made three trips to the recycling site that afternoon. Colleen hadn’t shown him the scrapped furniture, and picture frames she’d stored in the back bedrooms. At least it gave her plenty of time to expand on her ideas for interrupting Tommy’s drive north.
Whenever it finally took place.
Sean dropped his sister at home after the last few pieces had been taken to the dump.
“When do you think you’ll be moving?” he asked. “Have you found a place?”
“I’m moving out at the end of the month. I found a lovely little flat with views over the river.”
“You’ll have to give us your new address, we can come over sometime. I know the missus and the kids will be keen to visit.”
“Plenty of time for that, Sean, you concentrate on what we talked about this afternoon. Make the calls, hire the vehicles. Get the right men for the job. I’ll front up the cash for everything we need. Can I trust you to do your bit?”
“Course you can, sis,” he said, “it’s what I’m good at.”
“Have you ever sprung someone from prison before?”
“No,” admitted Sean.
“Well then, do as I tell you and there’s half a chance you might add this to your CV.”
Colleen closed the door behind him.
Sean drove home. He was going to be busy over the weekend. He prayed Tommy was feeling rough damn quick. The list of things they needed was as long as his arm.
Monday, 9th June 2014
Tommy O’Riordan had asked around. There were dozens of acquaintances of his in Belmarsh, but no true friends. A lot of the prisoners knew him by reputation as a hard man, but equally, there were those that couldn’t give a toss who he was. He got caught, just like them, so he wasn’t that smart. The prison population was full of guys just trying to do their time. They didn’t bother other people, and they didn’t want people bothering them.
By Sunday evening, Tommy had been desperate. He heard there was a doctor on the next block who had been struck-off for hypnotising his female patients and assaulting them. He tried to get a message through to him. Maybe the bloke could fix him up with something. He realised he needed to get a message to Sean or Colleen. They had to be ready for Tuesday, and time was running out.
Tommy arranged to make a call first thing in the morning. He chose to ring Sean. He would be arranging things. Sean had the contacts. Colleen was probably having her hair done. This was men’s work, it stood to reason. After another sleepless night, Tommy joined the queue for the phone. There were five men in front of him. He knew the drill, Wait your turn. Give everyone space to have a few minutes of contact with the outside world. Then get in, get on with it, and get off the phone.
The line of men behind him was growing. Tommy sensed trouble brewing. Voices were raised, and the screws were doing nothing, as usual.
He felt a shove in the back. “Get a move on,”
Tommy half turned, “Leave it out, pal, you need to learn patience.”
He was staring at a chest. Shit, this bloke must be huge.
“Patience? You need to learn respect.”
The next thing Tommy knew he was bent double in pain. The man-mountain had punched him hard in the kidney. The follow-up was swift and brutal. At least three prisoners joined in the attack. Blows rained down on his head and back. He tried to retaliate, but he was soon on the floor. His instinct was to curl into a ball, but the kicks still hurt as they struck home. The assault lasted less than a minute, but it seemed an hour before the guards dragged his attackers away, and order was restored.
Tommy O’Riordan was taken to the hospital wing. He suffered severe bruising to his arms, chest and stomach. Two ribs had been fractured. His face was a bloody mess. He was drifting in and out of consciousness. Tommy tried to hold on to the memory of the face of the guy that threw that first punch. He would be in a bed like this very soon.
Every time he tried to move, to make himself more comfortable in his cot, he winced. Tommy knew he had been lucky. Not because he hadn’t been killed, but because it meant that now he was off the Tuesday transfer list. Every cloud has a silver lining.
Colleen received a call from the prison, late on Monday morning. They were very sorry to have to inform her that her husband had been beaten in an unprovoked attack. His assailants would receive the appropriate punishment. The prison chaplain called to tell Colleen she had dispensation to visit Tommy either tomorrow or Wednesday.
“Oh, wonderful,” she thought, “another half day traipsing backwards and forwards.”
She rang Sean as soon as she thanked the chaplain for taking the time
to ring.
“Tommy’s transfer is delayed, Sean. Somebody did us a favour and gave him a beating. He’s on the hospital wing. They said I can have a compassionate visit tomorrow or Wednesday if I want.”
“Of course, you want to go, sis,” said Sean, “tell them you’ll be there Wednesday. Tommy’s been in a few fights over the years. He’ll be up and back to his old self in no time. Leave it until Wednesday, I reckon they’ll have him passed as fit to travel by then. Ask the doctor if he’s scheduled for Thursday or Friday. You won’t get a thing out of the officers, but if you flash your eyes at a medical man, he won’t be able to resist.”
“What do I say to Tommy, when I see him, Sean?” asked Colleen.
“Tell him he’s done us a favour,” said Sean, “we’ll be ready for the back end of the week. No problem. A beating isn’t the way I would have chosen to delay the move. I’d rather have the shits for twenty-four hours.”
“Are you saying he asked someone to knock seven bells out of him?” asked Colleen. “From what they said on the phone it sounded as if this bloke didn’t like the way Tommy spoke to him.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter what sparked it off, as long as he’s delayed his move,” said Sean.
“Are you going to tell me what you’ve got planned, Sean?”
“Not over the phone, Colleen, I tell you what, why don’t I drive you to Belmarsh on Wednesday. We can see him together, see what’s what, and we can talk it through on the way home.”
“Okay, Sean,” said Colleen. “I want to know everything mind, we can’t afford for this to be cocked up.”
*****
At Larcombe, the morning meeting had ended and Athena and Phoenix were eating lunch.
“We couldn’t have hoped for much more today,” said Phoenix.
“I agree,” said Athena, “our misdirection tactics and tip-offs have paid off handsomely. The Hampshire Police have carried out dawn raids on car hand-wash sites, brothels, hotels, and restaurants along the coast. They’ve found more illegal immigrants than they’ve got rooms available to keep them. It’s causing a furore in the media.”
“Even if a smart lawyer keeps these men and women hanging around in the UK for far too long,” said Phoenix, “they won’t be working for Elizi’s old gang. The thugs who took control of that must be bricking it.”
“The truck tachograph from Park Royal opened a bag of worms too,” Athena continued. “The Met police are liaising with their European colleagues over a sophisticated smuggling route that starts from Northern Spain, and travels through France, Belgium and the Netherlands, before coming across the Channel. There are hundreds of leads to follow. This could mean the dismantling of a major supply and distribution network.”
“Our input on these matters must always be kept under wraps,” said Phoenix, “but you can’t help feeling chuffed when things go well. It’s a shame we can’t shout our successes from the rooftops.”
“We must operate under the radar as we always have, darling. Despite the successes, our work is far from finished. The Grid will ride out this storm and come again.”
“The report on the prisoner transfer exercise from Giles was fascinating. If only he could get confirmation of the names of prisoners involved. The first of those transfers are already underway. We have agents following the route the van takes. When we receive feedback on that I want to talk with Rusty.”
“What did you have in mind?” asked Athena. She had finished her lunch and was helping Hope finish the last of hers. Hope had been listening intently to Mummy and Daddy, rather than getting on with her lunch.
“If they’re moving Category A prisoners, then these will by definition be dangerous men,” said Phoenix. “It wouldn’t do for them to find a way to escape. Rusty and I would have to ensure that couldn’t happen. If we think back to the end of April, and that chap O’Riordan who was sent down for murder. The Grid did everything to disrupt that process. We lost two good men, those jurors and the helicopter pilot were murdered.”
“If O’Riordan is included among the list of prisoners being moved,” Athena agreed, “it’s not hard to imagine his friends wanting to help him escape. You’re right, we need to discover who travelled today, then who’s on the list for the rest of the week.”
“I’ll drop into the ice-house and set the ball rolling,” said Phoenix. “Then, on my way back, I’ll catch up with Rusty and the training teams to brief him on our plans.”
“Let me know how you get on,” said Athena. “I’ll wait for Maria Elena, then I’ll be in the administration offices.”
When he arrived in the control section, Phoenix looked around for Giles and Artemis.
“Over here, Phoenix,” Artemis called. “I’m watching a live broadcast from one of our drones of the prison van on its journey up the M11.”
“Interesting,” said Phoenix, “so they’re taking the shortest route despite the tolls.”
“That’s because it’s the taxpayer who’s paying,” laughed Giles, who appeared from the next room. He joined Artemis and Phoenix by the monitor.
“The total journey time should be under five hours,” said Artemis, “via Girton and Blyth.”
“The reason I came over was to ask if you could redouble your efforts and discover who is in that van. So far, I guess there’s been nothing suspicious with any of the traffic in and around them?”
“Nothing obvious, Phoenix,” said Artemis.
“Good, let me know immediately if you spot something. I wouldn’t put it past the Grid’s people to have a go at releasing a prisoner or two.”
“Depending on how important they are to them, I presume?” said Artemis.
“Which explains the urgency of finding the documentation sent to Durham,” said Giles. “I’ve got you. We’ll get onto that straight away. It’s not the first time, is it, Phoenix? I know where to look for the booking forms. Hard to believe it was eighteen months ago that we intercepted those extremists bound for HMP Wakefield.”
“Send me the details when you have them, Giles. It will make interesting reading.”
He left Giles and Artemis to their work and took the lift to the floor below. Bazza and Thommo were assessing their trainees on the shooting range. They were engrossed in their work and had nothing witty to offer for a change. Rusty was nowhere to be seen. Everything seemed to be going well, so he headed to the surface. He crossed the lawns from the ice-house to the stable-block. Kelly Dexter emerged from the door to her quarters, she was towelling her hair dry.
“Hi, Phoenix,” she said, “looking for me?”
“Not this time, Kelly. Have you seen Rusty?”
“He’s with Hayden and the rest of the group in the pool. I was there until fifteen minutes ago. I’m shattered. Rusty is on one of his marathon swims. First to one hundred lengths. Hayden is watching from poolside already. Rusty has serious opposition though from lads who are younger than him.”
“The mad bugger won’t give up though,” said Phoenix, who had swum with Rusty on many occasions. “He can’t bear to lose.”
“That’s what we must teach everyone in this intake, and the ones to follow. Be the best.”
“I’ll walk over to see him,” said Phoenix. “I hope he’ll recover from this swim in time for our next mission.”
“Next week?” laughed Kelly.
“Could be tomorrow,” said Phoenix.
Kelly ran her fingers through her hair and continued to rub it with the towel.
“Perhaps I should get this cut off,” she sighed, “it would be easier to manage,”
“I’ll ask Hayden while I’m waiting for Rusty to finish,”
“Don’t you dare,” said Kelly, “he’d have a fit.”
Phoenix smiled, said cheerio, and walked to the old workers’ cottages, where the recreation facilities were situated. Rusty was still in the pool with three other squaddies.
“How many lengths so far?” Phoenix asked Hayden Vincent.
“Either ninety-four or ninety-si
x. I may have nodded off. I don’t think anyone’s counting. Rusty will stay in the pool until the last man quits.”
Phoenix sat beside him.
“I haven’t heard anything from Orion recently, Hayden, is he working on a case for us at present?”
“He’s taken his kids out of school, and he’s on holiday in Tenerife for two weeks. It’s worth risking a fine with the money he saves compared to flying during the school holidays.”
“Naughty, and with him being an ex-copper too,” said Phoenix.
Five minutes later, two more men quit the race. The final agent showed signs of flagging. Rusty was several lengths in front. When he reached the wall, he paused, looked up at Hayden and Phoenix, smiled, and started the return leg doing the backstroke.
“Oh-oh, he’s doing a four by one hundred metres medley now. That’s just showing off. Two minutes later, when Rusty passed on a breast-stroke leg, it was too much for his final opponent. If his front crawl couldn’t keep pace with that any longer, then it was time to admit you were beaten.
As both swimmers got out of the pool, they received a warm round of applause from the other trainees. Rusty shook his opponent’s hand.
“Great workout. Well done. You’re made of the right stuff.”
Phoenix joined his pal as he sat on the poolside, recovering.
“Next time, he’ll beat you,” he said.
“Nah,” said Rusty, “next time I’ll suggest he swims against you. I’m getting too old for this. Did you need to see me?”
Phoenix filled him in on the prisoner transfers and suggested they meet up later to plan for a mission.
“You think it’s a real possibility?” asked Rusty.
“I do, and if O’Riordan was the target, then foiling an escape bid would be another blow against the Grid.”
“Your plans had better be good then,” said Rusty. “Who would want to foil an escape bid? Apart from the police and the prison authorities, of course? Unless you’re very clever, you risk drawing attention to Olympus. At the very least, the Grid would know a third party was involved.”