Bird

by KW Finch

  Did I really want to be stuck in prison learning about computers? No, I wanted out. Life on the run had to be so much better than staying put and stagnating. So much for me becoming a computer wizard. The big wide world was out there and it was calling to me. So that brought me back to the original question of how to get Woolfe out of the way.

  The easiest way was to put him in the hospital wing for a spell. There would be no chance of him turning up without warning that way. Perhaps intensive care might be better still at the local hospital, he did have it coming to him after all. I was no match for him, even if I was at my fittest and I certainly wasn’t at the moment. My side was still painful and my nose still tender. I would have to hire some help to do him over. Woolfe was a nutter with psycho tendencies from what I’d seen of him so he needed a good walloping from half a dozen blokes with big sticks. I just needed to sort out the labourers for the job.

  The next morning at breakfast I put out a few leads. I managed to sit down with Muzzleflash and his crew after everyone had been served breakfast. I didn’t have a lot of time to spend with them by the time they sat down because I really didn’t want to be late for the computer class. I only had a fifteen minute window then the gates would be locked and I would be stuck on the wing for the morning. It wasn’t a problem but I just didn’t want to break my routine and start causing any kind of suspicions.

  “I’ve got a little job that needs some labourers.” I put to Muzzleflash while he was shovelling in mouthfuls of ketchup soaked bacon. “Would any of your boys be interested in working someone over?”

  “Oh yes!” He answered in his bass voice. It was still deep and rich even though it was no more than a whisper. “Johnny Briggs loves a good punch up. He’s been really moody lately and I think a good ruck would cheer him up. Peso is quite handy as well, how many blokes do you need?”

  “I was thinking three at least.” I replied.

  “Blimey London you starting a war? What’s going on?”

  “It’s a guy on A wing”

  “What, one bloke and you want three men?” He grinned, “Who is it?”

  “A nutter called Woolfe.”

  “Oh, I see.” He answered and sat back in his chair for a moment. He didn’t say anything but just looked at me intently, taking a mouthful of steaming tea.

  “He’s the bloke who played conkers with your kidneys I take it?” He asked.

  I just grimaced back. I hadn’t told anyone what really happened that day.

  “Mmm.” He pondered sitting forward now shovelling bacon into his mouth. “He’s a fucking nutter London. To work you over like he did there has to be something wrong in his head.” I couldn’t help but smile, Muzzleflash rarely swore but when he did you knew it was serious.

  “I know,” I nodded. “I want him in intensive care for a while.”

  “Not a problem.” He said, nodding thoughtfully.

  “Three’s not enough though, best make it four labourers and a couple of lookouts.” He continued. “It won’t be cheap though, he is a psycho bastard.” Again the swearing made me realise how serious Muzzleflash thought this was.

  “Money’s not a problem.” I replied.

  “Okay.” Muzzleflash nodded. “Leave it with me, we’ll talk tonight after supper.”

  I left rather hastily after that to make my way to the computer room. It was a close call, Monk was on gate duty when I limped across the field to the gate separating the computer block. He was standing there looking at his watch, just about to lock the gate.

  “Another 5 seconds London and this gate would have been locked.” He smirked, his fat lips looking like two great big sausages.”

  “Lucky,” I assured him “is my middle name.”

  Then before he had a chance to reply I added. “Very, being my first of course.”

  “I can see why someone put you in hospital London.” He replied.

  “It wasn’t for my acid wit.” I assured him.

  “I wouldn’t be too sure” he replied

  I was the last one into the computer room that morning. Woolfe bumped into me on the way out as I turned into the classroom, giving me a punch to the ribs as he passed. I wasn’t ready for him and the pain in my kidneys was crippling and I doubled over in agony. As he carried on walking off I used all my strength to try and boot him in the nuts. He was ready for that move and was much too quick for me in my present state. He moved out of the way leaving me to put all my effort into booting open space.

  The result was me losing my balance with my left leg trying to follow my right from the force I had put into the kick. I was aware that both my legs were up in the air at the same time and I was heading ground wards. My backside hit the floor first and some serious pain passed through my abdomen and I think I must have passed out for a couple of minutes. When I came too Davidson was crouching over me with Mike standing behind him.

  “Are you alright London?” Quizzed Mike.

  “Peachey.” I replied rather faintly, “Just Peachey.” I was so annoyed with myself. I was really slowing down, or perhaps I was just getting old.

  “What happened?” Mike inquired.

  “Just tripped over my feet.” I replied, rather lamely.

  “Really?” He quizzed while lowering his head and looking at me above the frame of his glasses.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine now Mike. I just tripped over my own feet.” I lied, getting up with the aid of Davidson.

  I tried not to let the pain show and did my best to walk over to my seat without looking like I was ready to collapse. I really had to sort out some drugs for the pain and soon. I managed to get through the rest of the morning without passing out, it was tough though. The first thing I did when I got back to the wing at lunch time was to score some drugs. I found a guy who sold me some temazepam, not a pain killer but I was past caring and just needed a break from the pain. I took four of the tablets and headed back to my cell for a lie down. I had a piss before settling down on my bed, my wee was still a deep red colour. The drugs had started to work on me already, I was feeling drowsy so I crashed out on my bed.

  I woke with a start and immediately looked around the room. It was dark, I fumbled my way to the light switch and after turning it on I checked my watch, it was 12.15am. I had been asleep for nearly 12 hours but I did feel much better for it. My cell door had been banged shut, probably by one of the screws. I hadn’t heard a thing. I took a couple more of the temazepam and got myself into bed, falling instantly back to sleep.

  Next morning I awoke feeling refreshed and really good about myself. The sun was streaming through the gaps in the curtains, they were holding up quite well. The pain in my side had eased considerably and I was going to take a couple of more pills but then thought better of it, they would only make me feel drowsy and I didn’t want that. I got myself washed and dressed quite quickly and was waiting eagerly for the screws to open the doors for breakfast.

  I was first in the queue which was totally unheard of. Muzzleflash and his boys were already there of course, waiting for one of the screws to turn up to escort one of them over to the kitchens to bring the food back. We gave a cursory nod to each other.

  “We can talk tonight if you’re not busy?” Muzzleflash said.

  “Yeah that’s fine,” I countered. “I think I might be able to work something out.”

  I knew he would need more than the 10-15 minutes I could spare before the computer class as did Muzzleflash. I rushed my breakfast down and got myself over to the computer room, still feeling pretty good about myself. I was starting to question why I was feeling, I wouldn’t say happy but certainly good. Was it the drugs I’d been taking? I got to my desk in plenty of time and fired up my computer.

  When Woolfe finally turned up he looked over at me with his evil grin, made Mike a coffee and did his usual disappearing trick. I started to feel a bit uneasy after that and getting totally irrational thoughts. What if Woolfe was going today? He could have everything ready for his escape! It should be me
down there in the tunnel getting out.

  I tried to calm myself down and think straight. I wasn’t even sure he was trying to escape and if he was digging a tunnel where was all the dirt going anyway? I had to find out what he was up to once and for all.

  The rest of the morning dragged and I didn’t feel like eating at lunch time and just had a cup of tea. I was quite moody in the afternoon session in the computer room and started to get a headache, something I never got. I felt a whole lot better when Woolfe turned up just before the end of the afternoon session. I never thought I would be so happy to see him. I really needed to have that chat with Muzzleflash tonight and see what he had sorted out. I was feeling quite desperate about the situation and needed to find out what was going on under that manhole cover.

  TWENTY ONE

  We had just finished some strange kind of fish pie. I only knew it was a fish pie because Muzzleflash had told me. To me it looked like some white paste stuff encased in concrete, sorry I mean pastry. I just covered it in brown sauce and shovelled it in, having not eaten since breakfast I needed it. The duff was equally uninteresting and the yellow liquid covering it that was supposed to be custard didn’t improve the flavour at all.

  “Now.” Muzzleflash began while sitting back in his chair after finishing his dinner.

  He rolled a cigarette and sparked it up from his homemade lighter. It consisted of what looked like a piece of string dangling down from a shaped piece of wood with a flint and small steel wheel. It didn’t produce a flame, the string just smouldered when Muzzleflash worked it. It was very primitive but it worked every time.

  “I’ve got four labourers and a couple of lookouts for you. All I need now is payment and we can move straight away.”

  “Good.” I responded, “I never really thought it through about payment, but it’s not a problem you know I’m good for it.”

  “I do, of course.” he continued. “But this is prison and payment has to be upfront for this one.”

  “Okay, no problem.” I added and started to inwardly panic a bit. “What’s the damage?”

  “£600 cash.” he smiled.

  “Mmm… not a problem.” It was though and I was thinking of a way through this. After a few moments thought I had a solution.

  “I need to use a phone tonight. What’s the chances?” I asked Muzzleflash.

  He shrugged his shoulders, took a long drag on his cigarette and exhaled the smoke slowly.

  “Leave it with me.” He finally acknowledged. He finished his cigarette and then went off to sort out the phone call, leaving me waiting on my own. After finishing their dinner the rest of the servery boys left me to see to their tidying up. Muzzleflash returned about twenty minutes later.

  “How did you get on?” I asked hopefully.

  “Well, the only phone you would have any chance of using is in the wing office and there is no way you are going to get near that. Not a hope.” Sad Muzzleflash with conviction.

  “I’m screwed then?” I questioned.

  “Well not totally,” Muzzleflash grinned, “there is still hope. The wing number one…..”

  “Brian the iron?” I interrupted.

  “Yes, Brian the iron.” Muzzleflash continued.

  “I’ve always wondered about that bloke, he doesn’t look or act bent.” I said.

  “He’s as straight as a straight thing.” Muzzleflash replied.

  “With a name like Brian the iron?” I laughed. “Does he like ironing or something? He looks like the incredible hulk on steroids.” I continued. “And I don’t see him heading to the gym at all so it can’t be because he pumps iron.”

  “Not quite.” Muzzleflash said. “He’s a smithy by day on the out and a safe cracker at night.

  “Oh right” I answered, totally uninterested now but Muzzleflash wanted to make his point.

  “He makes gates and fences out of wrought iron.” he went on, “I’ve seen some of his work, very ornate stuff some it.”

  “Wake me up when you’ve finished Muzz.” I yawned.

  “Okay.” said Muzzleflash coming back to business. “If you give him a message with a phone number he will be able to make the call.” He said sitting back in his chair again.

  “Is he reliable and more to the point trustworthy?” I asked.

  “Totally, I’ve known him for ages. He’s got quite a nice little number going there and I’m after his job when he leaves in a couple of months.” He replied.

  I knew that the wing number one got treated a lot differently to the rest of the cons. Some lags did look down on the wing number one because you were so close to the screws.

  “It looks like it’s my only option.” I admitted.

  Muzzleflash produced a piece of scrap paper from his tunic pocket and a stub of a pencil, no more than a couple of inches long. I wrote a telephone number and £600 cash followed by Jackson.

  “Leave it with me, he should be able to make the call tonight when it’s quiet.”

  “Nice one Muzz, I appreciate it. Thanks’ mate.” I was sincere and I really meant it.

  It was only in the last couple of days I’d realised what a rut I was in and now I had been thinking about it, I really wanted out. It was time to move on. Muzz just nodded while he pushed his chair in and headed off to the wing office. I was left to my own thoughts which were about the outside world and freedom.

  The next day, a Saturday, I did find it hard to drag myself out of bed that morning. I was really ratty and realised it was because I just didn’t want to be here anymore and was simply winding myself up. I already decided that Woolfe was making an escape route and that I was going to get him out of the way, in this case hospital and then I would use his escape route to get out.

  But what if I was way out, what if there was no escape route and it was something else? I tried to put it out of my mind and think about something else but I couldn’t. I decided that if there was no way out with the Woolfe route then I would have to start making my own plans to get away from Fulwood Hill. This did make me feel a bit better and I started to think about my plan B. I missed breakfast and wandered into the dining hall as most of the cons had left. I went and sat at the table with Muzzleflash and his crew.

  “Morning fellas.” I offered as I sat at one end of their table opposite Muzzleflash. Various replies, waves, and nods came back from everyone. Muzzleflash waited until last.

  “Morning London.” he smiled at me, “That was all done for you last night, no problems.”

  “Terrific.” I responded.

  Immediately I felt some relief. I’d set a chain of events into motion and the grey matter was switching on. I was starting to think ahead and make plans. The rest of the day went quite quickly. Then about mid-afternoon one of the screws came to find me.

  “You’ve got a visitor London.” He announced. “Make your way up to reception with me.”

  It was the kind of news I had been waiting for.

  Apart from Marcus it was my first visit since starting my sentence and was hoping that this was going to be a much better one. I followed the screw through a series of locked gates up to reception and was handed over to another screw at the entrance to the visitor hall. He took me into a small room and filled out a form while another screw who was already in the room gave me a pat down.

  “I’m not smuggling anything out today.” I shrugged.

  “Don’t worry.” The screw replied. “We’ll check you a bit more thoroughly on the way back in.”

  I knew that would most definitely be a problem for me.

  “Right.” The first screw said looking up from his form. “London, you’ve got three visitors to see you today. You will stay on your side of the table at all times and the visitors on the other. Any food or drink you consume must be purchased by your visitors from the counter. It must be finished before you leave the hall. Visiting time ends at 2.30pm.”

  “Peachey.” I replied.

  The screw that had just searched me led me to another door and let me thr
ough. I scanned the room looking for my visitors, it didn’t take long to find who I was looking for. As expected the Growler was easy to see. He was sitting back in a chair in the far corner of the room with a fat cigar in his mouth and two absolutely gorgeous birds on either side of him. The two girls stood up when they saw me and waved me over.

  “Come on London.” One of them called in a husky voice. It was Anita and her long blond hair was bouncing with the energetic waving, as were her boobs. How on earth did they stay in that top? It was the tightest, lowest cut top I’d seen in a very long time. She certainly knew how to put a smile on my face. Not to be outdone, the brunette on the other side of the Growler now called out to me.

  “The parties over here.” She added with a giggle. Tania’s approach was even more brazen and had gone with a sheer black top. You could see straight through it and it was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra. Both girls were nearly wearing the shortest of miniskirts.

  All the men and I really do mean all the men had their eyes on the two girls. The Growler took the cigar from his mouth and exhaled the smoke up into the air above him, a huge grin on his face. He’d chosen well, he knew exactly what he was doing, such a showman.

  I made my way over to the table. Not only were the cons hypnotized by the lovely charms of Tania and Anita but the dozen screws I’d counted on entering the room were watching open mouthed. Perfect. When I got over to the table the two girls let me know how much they had missed me, it was a lot. They were all over me like a rash, it was great. They made a real fuss of me. The Growler stepped in after a few moments when he thought we had created the desired effect.

  “Come on, come on girls.” He flapped around them in an overly loud voice, just milking his audience. “Give him some space, he hasn’t seen a woman for a long time. Who knows what might happen to the poor man!”

  The girls stepped back while the Growler stepped in to shake my hand.