The bodyguard showed him out, and it was clear from the look on his face that he’d have preferred to have another go with the ice-pick instead. Carver lit a cigarette in the lift and wondered just what he was going to do with Tsang Chau-ling.
HUTCH SAT WITH HIS back to the wall, listening to his sleeping cellmates. One of the Hong Kong Chinese was coughing, curled up in a ball on the blanket he slept on. Most of the prisoners had strips of cloth across their eyes to blot out the ever-present fluorescent lights. Over on the far side of the cell, Matt lay facing Hutch, his eyes open. He gave Hutch a weak smile and Hutch nodded. Hutch got up and went over to the lockers. He took out the brown T-shirt and shorts that he’d have to wear in court and changed into them, turning his back on the American so that he wouldn’t see the transmitter taped to his stomach. Hutch had bought the uniform from the trustys and had made sure that the shirt was several sizes too big so that it hung loosely around his chest. He retrieved the key from its hiding place at the base of the concrete wall around the toilet and rinsed it in the water trough, then went over to Matt.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
The American nodded. He was sweating and kept swallowing nervously. Hutch bent over Joshua and touched him lightly on the shoulder. The Nigerian removed the piece of cloth that he’d tied around his eyes and sat up.
‘Ready?’ asked Hutch. Joshua gave him a thumbs-up.
Hutch unlocked the cell door and ushered Matt on to the catwalk. Joshua closed the door quietly and kept watch through the bars. Hutch and the American crept along the walkway, bent double so that they couldn’t be seen from the cells they passed. When they reached Harrigan’s cell, the Irishman was already waiting for them. Hutch inserted the key and turned it. The lock clicked and he pushed the door open. Harrigan was wearing his brown T-shirt and shorts and he gave Matt his ordinary clothes: a white T-shirt with Garfield on the front and a pair of denim shorts.
The Canadian was sitting on his bed, and waved for Hutch to come closer. ‘I’m not happy about this,’ he whispered.
‘You don’t have to be happy,’ hissed Hutch. ‘It’s nothing to do with you.’
‘Yeah, well, when the shit hits the fan, it’s going to go everywhere.’
‘Just say you were asleep. Say you were tripping. It’s me and Ray they’ll be after, not you. Besides, you’ve already been paid.’ Hutch had given the Canadian one of the gold chains and some of Bey’s money to buy his co-operation. And his silence.
‘Well, now I’m not sure that it’s a good idea.’
Hutch stared at the Canadian. ‘What are you saying?’ he asked. Harrigan and Matt were standing at the cell door, unsure of what was happening.
‘I don’t think you should go through with it.’
Hutch looked at the Canadian’s eyes. The pupils were dilated and the whites were bloodshot. There was a smear of blood on his left forearm. Hutch grabbed him by the shirt collar. ‘We’re going through with it,’ he whispered into the Canadian’s ear. ‘And you’re going to keep your mouth shut. Do you understand?’ The Canadian didn’t reply. He turned his head away and grimaced. Hutch dragged him to his feet and marched him over to the bars. Matt and Harrigan moved out of the way and stood watching apprehensively. ‘Do you see that guy over there? The big black guy?’
The Canadian stared across the catwalk at Hutch’s cell. Joshua stood there looking out, his powerful arms folded through the cell door.
‘You see him?’ pressed Hutch. The Canadian nodded. ‘That’s Joshua,’ Hutch continued, whispering into the Canadian’s ear. ‘Joshua’s a very good friend of mine. A very good friend. If you screw this up for me, if you say one word to the guards, Joshua’s going to get very angry with you. Do you understand?’
Joshua grinned and waved.
‘If I were you, I wouldn’t want Joshua angry with me. He’s a big lad. Now why don’t you go and shoot some more of that crap into your veins and get a good night’s sleep?’ Hutch let go of the Canadian’s collar. The Canadian scurried over to his bed and sat with his back to them.
Hutch turned to Harrigan. ‘Ready, Ray?’
Harrigan nodded. Hutch reached forward and held the Irishman’s left wrist. He examined his arms, looking for fresh needle marks. He saw none.
‘I’m clean,’ said Harrigan resentfully.
Hutch knelt down. Harrigan took a step back but Hutch grabbed his leg. There was a small drop of blood on the Irishman’s ankle. ‘You stupid bastard,’ said Hutch.
‘I needed something,’ whined Harrigan.
‘You could ruin it for everyone,’ said Hutch. ‘Are you carrying anything?’ Harrigan shook his head but Hutch patted him down to be sure. ‘Okay, now stay close to me, and keep your head down.’ Hutch looked over at Joshua. The Nigerian gave him another thumbs-up. Hutch turned to Matt. ‘Are you going to be okay?’ he asked.
‘Sure,’ said the American. He seemed more confident now that he was in Harrigan’s cell. He stuck out his hand. ‘Good luck.’ The two men shook hands.
Hutch and Harrigan stepped out of the cell and Hutch relocked the door. The two men crept back to Hutch’s cell. Joshua opened the door and they slipped inside. Hutch locked the door and gave the key to Joshua. ‘You might as well have this,’ he said.
Joshua weighed it in his hand. ‘Great, now all I have to do is to find a way out of the compound, cross two walls and a moat and I’m home free.’
‘Don’t get bitter and twisted,’ grinned Hutch. ‘And make sure you keep it well hidden.’ The prisoners were searched on a regular basis by the trustys, but while the searches were generally perfunctory at best, they did occasionally turn over the cells looking for drugs and contraband.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it. You might need it when they bring you back.’
‘Don’t even joke about that,’ said Hutch. He showed Harrigan where the American’s sleeping space was. The Irishman wrinkled his nose in disgust. ‘Next to the toilet?’ he said.
‘It’s only for a few hours,’ said Hutch.
‘Yeah, we can’t all afford private cells,’ said Joshua. ‘But if it upsets you that much, you can have my spot.’
‘No,’ said Hutch. ‘He has to be at the far end of the cell. I don’t want Pipop seeing him when he opens the door. And Ray, keep your face down until we’re on the coach.’
Harrigan waved his hand, indicating the sleeping prisoners. ‘What about these guys? Won’t they say anything?’
Joshua grinned. ‘Not if they know what’s good for them,’ he said.
‘They’ve no reason to grass us,’ said Hutch.
All three men turned to the door as they heard footsteps on the stairs. Joshua took a quick peek through the bars and motioned for Hutch and Harrigan to go to their places. By the time the guard walked by their cell, they were all lying down with their backs to the door.
TSANG CHAU-LING WOKE WITH a start. She sat up, her heart pounding. The room was in almost total darkness and she walked to the window with her arms outstretched, feeling her way. She pulled back the curtains and looked down at the river far below.
Her plane ticket was on the coffee table. She’d decided to do as the DEA agent had said and go back to Hong Kong. There was nothing more she could do in Thailand. She hoped that Warren would be all right, though she wished with all her heart that there was something she could do to help. There was so much she wanted to ask him, so much she wanted to tell him, but she would just have to wait until he returned to Hong Kong.
HARRIGAN REMAINED CURLED UP on his sleeping mat while the rest of the prisoners ate their morning meal. Hutch was so tense that he couldn’t bring himself to eat. Joshua didn’t appear to have any problems and he ate Hutch’s egg and soup with relish. The prisoners who were due to go to court changed into their brown uniforms as the dirty bowls were collected and passed back through the bars.
Joshua, now dressed in brown ready for his court appearance, stood by the bars, looking at the stairway. ‘Here they come,’ he said.
<
br /> The prisoners in Hutch’s cell gathered their washing gear from the lockers and waited impatiently for the guard to open their door.
The guard appeared at the bars. He slotted the key into the lock and turned it. Joshua looked across at Hutch and nodded. Hutch’s heart was racing. The prisoners began to file out. Harrigan got to his feet but kept his back to the guard and the trustys. The Hong Kong Chinese prisoners dashed through, and Hutch followed them. He paused on the catwalk. Joshua stepped through the door and spoke to Pipop in Thai. Pipop replied and Joshua held out his hand and showed him one of the gold chains. Pipop’s eyes widened and he took the chain from the Nigerian. The guard and the other trusty stared at the gold as Joshua explained that he’d found it in the cell. The guard reached for it but Pipop took a step backwards, reluctant to give up possession. Harrigan walked out of the cell, his face turned away from the men at the door. Hutch went with him down the stairs, leaving Joshua talking to the guard and trustys.
The prisoners who were due to go to court assembled outside the block. Harrigan stood next to the wall with his head down. Hutch stood next to him. ‘Okay?’ he asked.
Harrigan didn’t look up. ‘Sure.’ He sounded distant, as if his mind was elsewhere.
Hutch grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. ‘Don’t let me down, Ray.’
‘I’m okay,’ said Harrigan. He began to shiver despite the heat.
Hutch lifted the Irishman’s chin. His pupils were dilated. ‘Are you still high?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Harrigan. ‘But I wish I was.’
More prisoners began to gather. A guard read a list of names off a clipboard while another guard did a head count. As their names were called, the prisoners stepped forward. There were nineteen names in all. Hutch stood next to Harrigan, their shoulders touching. Behind them were Joshua and Julian, talking in their own language.
Two more guards arrived, each carrying a large canvas bag. They emptied the contents on to the ground. One bag contained leg-irons, the other handcuffs. Leg-irons were locked on to those prisoners who weren’t already chained, then they were all handcuffed. Once they were all chained they were marched in single file out of the compound and through into the courtyard where the coach was waiting with its engine running. It was one of the coaches that Hutch had seen on his first visit to the prison, white with wire mesh over the windows. The driver was slumped over the wheel, his forehead resting on his arms. Two armed guards climbed aboard.
Four guards with shotguns stood in a line behind the coach, one with a clipboard. Their fingers were off the triggers but they kept a close eye on the prisoners as one by one they were waved through the rear door of the coach.
One of the guards tapped on the windscreen and the driver sat up, blinking. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and then smiled and nodded at the guard. He pulled a handle by his side and the rear door hissed open.
Sweat was pouring off Harrigan’s face as he climbed on to the coach. His foot slipped on the metal step and his head slammed into the side of the coach but he recovered quickly, mumbling to himself. Hutch waited for the guard with the clipboard to wave him on, then he hurried after Harrigan. The Irishman slid on to a seat midway along the coach. Hutch joined him. Harrigan was sitting with his eyes closed, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. He was breathing fast and Hutch feared he’d soon hyperventilate if he didn’t calm down.
‘Take it easy,’ Hutch whispered. ‘Breathe slowly. Try to relax.’
Harrigan opened his eyes. He swallowed nervously. ‘I’m okay.’
The last of the prisoners climbed on to the coach and shuffled to his seat. Another armed guard climbed into the back of the coach. He locked the cage in which the prisoners were sitting, then sat down in the guards’ area with his colleagues, their shotguns on their laps. The remaining armed guard got into the front and sat next to the driver. The guard with the clipboard joined them and the door hissed shut. Hutch looked over his shoulder. The guards at the back of the coach were deep in conversation.
Hutch looked down at his leg-irons. They were old but in good condition, and glistened with a sheen of oil as if they’d recently been lubricated. That would work in his favour. The handcuffs were newer.
He lifted his right foot slowly and rested it on the shin of his left leg. He slowly dropped his hands and loosened the laces of his right training shoe. He slipped his fingers inside and pulled out one of the shims.
Hutch set to work on the leg-irons. He fed the shim along the end edge of the swinging shackle and jiggled it in and out. He kept his back straight and looked out of the window, doing it all by feel so as not to attract any attention to himself. Suddenly the shim went in a full half an inch. Hutch eased the shackle free from the locking mechanism and said a silent prayer of thanks. He started work on the second leg, keeping his movements to a minimum.
The coach stopped. Hutch looked out of the window. The driver was waiting for the main gates to be opened. By the time the coach eased forward through the prison gates, the second shackle was open. Hutch exhaled, he hadn’t realised that he’d been holding his breath. He pushed the leg-irons along the floor with his feet, slowly so they wouldn’t rattle on the metal floor of the coach.
Hutch banged his knee against Harrigan’s leg. Harrigan frowned. Hutch pointed at Harrigan’s right leg and gestured for him to lift it. Harrigan did as he was told.
The coach accelerated down the road away from the prison. Hutch didn’t know how much time he had, that would all depend on how bad the traffic was. He realised Harrigan was staring and he gestured with his chin for him to keep looking out of the window. Hutch’s fingers were damp with sweat and the shim kept slipping in his grip. He pulled his hand away and wiped it on his trousers. He tried again, but no matter how much he wiggled the shim about, it just wouldn’t go.
He lifted his hands and slipped the shim under his thigh, then groped in his training shoe. He pulled out four picks before his probing fingers found the second shim. Hutch had a quick look over his shoulder, then he wiped his fingers again and inserted the shim along the edge of the swinging shackle.
The coach braked sharply and the prisoners lurched forward. Several cursed the driver. Hutch looked up. The coach had stopped at the level crossing. In the distance was an approaching train. A red and white motorcycle pulled up next to the coach. The driver was a big man wearing a full face helmet with the visor down. The motorcycle was big, too: a 750cc Kawasaki. The driver flicked up his visor. It was Bird. He looked straight at Hutch and smiled. Bird pushed his visor down and gunned the engine of his bike. Eventually the train rolled by, heading for Bangkok.
Hutch started on the leg-iron again. It took only a few minutes before the shim slid in between the two sets of teeth and he was able to slip out the shackle arm. He breathed a sigh of relief and tapped Harrigan on the leg to let him know that he’d finished. Harrigan put his leg down. Hutch wasn’t going to bother with Harrigan’s other leg: he’d be able to run well enough and the time would be better spent working on the handcuffs.
Hutch tried the shim on the handcuff around his left wrist, but he could tell after a couple of attempts that it wasn’t going to work. The two sets of teeth fitted together too well and the shim wouldn’t fit between them. The only way he was going to get the handcuff off was actually to pick the lock.
The coach rattled over the crossing and drove to the intersection with the main highway leading to Bangkok. Hutch was relieved to see how heavy the traffic was: all the lanes were jammed and the cars and buses were moving at a little over walking pace. Bird was waiting at the side of the road. He’d parked his motorcycle and was crouched down by the side of it as if examining the engine.
Hutch slid the rest of the picks and the two torsion wrenches from out of his training shoe and put them under his thigh. He selected a pick with a turned end of about a millimetre and one of the torsion wrenches. Hutch had never tried to pick a lock one-handed before, but he’d spent hours practising a
t night in his cell, holding the two pieces of metal and imagining the cuffs were on his wrist, going through the motions until his fingers ached.
The coach edged into the southbound traffic, the driver over-revving the engine. Hutch inserted the pick and turned it slowly, feeling for the lever in the locking mechanism. When he’d located the tumbler by feel, he withdrew the pick. He wiped his fingers on his trousers and took a quick look around to assure himself that the guards weren’t looking at him.
The coach moved into the central lane, forcing its way in front of a green and white taxi. Hutch swallowed. His mouth was bone dry. Suddenly he felt the final tumbler shift and the torsion wrench turned. He wiggled his left hand and the shackle arm slipped out several centimetres. Another shake and it popped completely out. He took the left cuff and fastened it around his right wrist. It seemed crazy to be handcuffing himself, but it was the only way to keep the cuff from flapping around. He transferred the pick and the torsion lever to his left hand then took another quick look around. The guards at the front and the back of the coach were relaxing.
The coach driver grated his gears as he accelerated. The traffic was moving faster; Hutch figured they were now probably moving at thirty miles an hour. He didn’t have much time. He beckoned with his finger for Harrigan to move his right hand closer. Harrigan had to twist his wrist so that Hutch could reach the lock. He manipulated the pick with his right hand while he eased in the torsion wrench with his left. Harrigan continued to look out of the window. His hands were trembling, either from excitement or fear. Sweat ran into Hutch’s eyes and he blinked, trying to clear them. He clicked the first tumbler back and twisted the torsion wrench. Suddenly the wrench snapped and Hutch’s left hand jerked. He cursed soundlessly. He looked at the broken piece of metal in his hand. At least half an inch was still in the lock. Hutch pointed at the handcuff and made a shaking motion with his finger. Harrigan got the message and shook his right hand. Hutch watched intently but there was no sign of the missing piece. If it was jammed in the lock, he’d never be able to pick it.
The Solitary Man (Stephen Leather Thrillers) Page 35