by KW Finch
He was starting to dribble as he spoke. The rage was taking a grip now which I was quite enjoying but there was a bit of a problem I needed to avoid. I didn’t want Monk to be so outraged that he just sent me back to the block. Having already spent three days out of circulation and not knowing the whereabouts of Woolfe and the fact that solitary was driving me absolutely potty, I couldn’t push Monk over the edge. He was already at the edge, I just didn’t want to give him that final nudge. I sat back in my chair and didn’t say any more. I decided to let him blow the wind out of his own sails. After his little self-righteous rant he seemed to settle down a bit.
“Look Mr Monk I know you have a low opinion of me,” I continued, “and we’ve never really got along. I respect your morals and your attitude, we’re just from different worlds. I’m just a product of the system. I need to think about what you’re saying. I’ve never looked at it like that before.” He just stared at me, he wasn’t expecting this about turn. I don’t think he knew what to do or say which was most unlike him. He pondered what I had said for a moment then looked at me with deep suspicion.
“So.” He finally said. “Have you had a chance to think about Sunday’s incident?”
“You’ve got the wrong man.” I said. “I know you’re looking for a result with the beating but I really don’t know anything about it.”
He sat there again, just staring at me and not saying anything. Eventually he came to a decision.
“On your way London.” He announced and I got up and started to leave the room before he changed his mind. As I got to the door he called me.
“London.” He barked.
“Mr Monk?” I replied, turning back to toward him.
“If you’re playing games with me London, I will show no mercy in dealing with you. Do you understand me?” He had the most serious look on his face I’d ever seen.
“Yes Mr Monk.” I replied and then he gave another one of his sickly, evil looks. His mouth made the right shape for a smile but the rest of his face was unsmiling.
TWENTY FIVE
So I walked out of that room feeling quite good about myself even though I knew Monk would hang me out to dry if we had another run in. It was the last thing on my mind to be honest, I had to find Muzzleflash to see what I had been missing over the last three days. It was mid-morning so I guessed he would be in his cell and decided to try there first. I knocked gently on his cell door.
“Who’s that?” His deep bass voice called out.
“London.” I replied.
“Come on in London.” he replied. I pushed the door further open and Muzzleflash was casually laying back on his bed with a poorly folded broadsheet newspaper in one hand and a large spliff in the other. There was a fog of smoke in the room and the smell of the weed nearly knocked me over. I coughed and wheezed as I entered.
“Strong stuff Muzz.” I managed to splutter.
“Skunk weed.” He stated in a relaxed tone. “Fucking good stuff.” I knew he was stoned at this point.
“Good to see you back London.” He smiled and it was a genuine smile.
“Yeah, thanks.” I replied, “That place was driving me mental.”
“Think yourself lucky London.” He continued, “You go down for murder and you do the first eight years in solitary, you only get to see therapists and shrinks.”
“Fuck that.” I protested, “I was climbing the walls after three days.”
Well both fell silent for a moment. I thought back to Borough and Ricky asking me that question about the bank manager with the gun in his mouth. I would have pulled that trigger without thinking about it. Was that such a good idea I wondered now?
“So what’s been going on, what have I missed.” I finally asked.
“Fuck all and fuck all.” he replied. “In that order.” and then giggled at his own wit.
“What about Woolfe?” I asked, ignoring the attempt at comedy.
“That’s funny.” he laughed. “Fuck all and fuck all.” He repeated and then laughed again.
“Hilarious.” I agreed “Woolfe?” I asked again.
“Oh yes,” he said and giggled again. “he’s still on vacation at the local hospital. He’ll be back in a few days so I’ve been told.”
“Is that from a reliable source?” I asked.
“Monk.” He answered.
“Is he still trying to get to the bottom of it?” I asked.
“He seems the most keen.” He replied. “No one else seems particularly bothered. No one likes Woolfe. If it wasn’t us it would have been somebody else dishing out the beating. Anyway,” he continued, “why are you so keen on all the ins and outs? What does it matter when he comes back?”
“No reason.” I lied, “Just want to find out what has been happening the last few days.”
“Oh right.” he said while nodding and tapping his nose with a finger from the hand holding the spliff.
I made my farewells and headed back to my own cell. Muzzleflash was too stoned to get any real sense out of him. I had to get one of the screws from the wing office to unlock my cell, it had been banged shut three days earlier. I had a shower and was ready to have something to eat after that. I just wanted to get back down to the computer centre, for the last few days I had been desperately trying to divert my thoughts from the what was beyond the manhole cover. Now I was out and knew Woolfe was still out of the way I just wanted to get down there and finally see what was going on under that cover.
I ate my lunch that day quite quickly and was waiting at the gate to get into the training centre. Sitting down at my desk I switched the computer on while the other cons were wandering into the room. I wanted to be ready to get out of the classroom at the first opportunity. As usual Mike was wandering around the room seeing all of the cons and making sure everything was okay and answering any questions they might have. When he finally got to my desk he gave me a warm smile.
“Good to see you back London.” He welcomed. “Get yourself settled in and come and see me if you have any problems.”
“I will.” I nodded.
After what seemed an eternity, Mike went into his little office and I was about to make my exit when he appeared again.
“Brown.” He called to one of the cons near his room. The lag in question looked up from his computer and Mike asked him.
“Would you make me my afternoon coffee? I’ve got a New Zealand flight I need to get ready for.”
His bloody flight sim games I thought to myself. Anyway, five minutes later I was finally making my way along the corridor to the manhole cover. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. The adrenalin was pumping through my body and my heart pounding like a huge drum. I hadn’t had this kind of rush for a long time. Even when we did the caning of Woolfe I hadn’t felt this charged up. I was convinced there was a way out just a few steps ahead of me.
I got to the cover in a few moments and hadn’t seen anyone on the way there. I had the hook part of an old coat hanger and had been keeping it handy for this moment. I’d realised a few days earlier that I would need something to hook the catch of the manhole cover. I looked about me quickly and listened, no sign of anyone or any sounds. Working quickly I hooked the catch on one side of the cover and got a couple of fingers under it and lifted.
It was a lot heavier than I was expecting but managed to pull it a few inches to one side, enough to put my hand into the gap I had created to lift the cover. There was a draft that blew into my face as I bent down to grab the cover, it was a warm disgusting smell. I moved the cover far enough to make room to get in and looked down into the dark hole beneath me. A steel ladder was fixed to one side of the shaft, the rungs disappearing down into the darkness.
After another quick look around I jumped onto the ladder and climbed down enough to rest my back onto the shaft wall on the opposite side of the ladder and worked the cover back into position. It closed with a soft thud and I was plunged into darkness. I hadn’t thought about that, it was now pitch black an
d I couldn’t see a thing.
I decided to wait a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I could hear the faint noise of dripping in the distance and thought I heard or did I imagine it, a scratching, scurrying noise. Oh no, I inwardly groaned to myself. Rats! I hated rats.
After a few minutes my eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness. I fumbled for the side of the ladder to start making my way down to the bottom when I caught a glint of something shiny to the right hand side of the ladder. Putting my hand out toward the wall, one of the bricks was missing and in the recess it had left I could feel the cold metal casing of what turned out to be a torch. It was only small and I quickly found the button to turn it on. It produced a bright beam of light and I shone it down below me.
The shaft went down about 8 feet to what looked like a concrete floor below. The smell rising up toward me wasn’t too nice but after all the aggro I had gone through to get this far a nasty niff wasn’t going to put me off. I started to descend the ladder. My left hand was shining the torch below and my right gripping the side of the steel ladder.
I still had to be aware of the time as well and had to make sure nobody became suspicious. I couldn’t risk being found out now. Stopping for a moment I checked my watch by the torchlight and decided to give myself an hour to be back in the same spot. Getting towards the bottom I put my right foot down on the bottom rung of the ladder, something shot up my trouser leg and then there was a sharp biting pain.
TWENTY SIX
My left foot slipped off of the rung as I buckled up in agony. My right hand never had a proper grip on the side of the ladder and I fell the last 4 feet, crashing onto the ground below with the torch flying off somewhere. The floor was concrete as I’d guessed and it did hurt but I was more worried about what was up my trouser leg and fumbled furiously for the crazed rat. I couldn’t feel it or find it and tried to stand up. Immediately I fell to the ground again in agony from the searing pain in my right leg.
My head was spinning and I felt dizzy, putting my hands to the area of the pain and my leg was covered in a warm liquid, it was blood, my blood. I lay on the floor for a while not moving, my heart pounding harder than ever. The smell from earlier seemed worse than ever in my nostrils and my head was still spinning, faster and faster it was going. I think I might have even passed out for a few moments, it was a bit confused.
When I came around the pain in my leg had eased a bit and my head was a bit clearer. I sat up and tried to examine the wound. I pulled my trouser leg up and after fumbling around on the floor found the torch and shone it over my leg. There was a nasty gash on my calf muscle running up from just above my ankle for about five inches. I took my shirt off and the t- shirt underneath and then put my shirt back on again. I tore the t-shirt into strips, it ripped quite easily which was just as well because I felt weak and used them to dress the wound.
I was so relieved it wasn’t a rat up my trouser leg. Finally after finishing what I thought was a pretty good field dressing I stood up. It felt pretty good and the pain had subsided to a dull ache by now. I had a look at the bottom of the shaft and saw that there had originally been steel bars but they had been cut and bent up out of the way. Obviously the bar I caught my leg on was not bent far enough though. When I’d shone the torch down the shaft moments earlier from the top I hadn’t noticed the roughly cut bars.
I shone the torch around me now to get an idea of where I had landed. Although the torch was bright it didn’t have much of a beam and I couldn’t see very far. It was definitely some kind of tunnel, probably a sewer by the smell and to the side of me water was running in a gulley. It was quite cramped and probably only about five feet at its widest part. I checked my watch, only around fifty minutes left before I needed to be back in the computer room.
I decided to follow the sewer in the direction of the running water. I guessed as well that it was going in the right direction, away from the prison. I walked along crouching down along the way, the smell was starting to affect me again and it was quite muggy. I could hear the plop of things falling in water and squeaking noises, it made me squirm at the thought of the rats all around me.
There was a big plop just in front of me and I shone my torch down in the direction of the sound just in time to catch a huge rat in the torchlight, it was an absolute monster. It was only a split second after the light of the torch found the rat that it submerged in flurry of bubbles.
I shone my torch back in the direction I was heading, the going was slow, my leg was throbbing now and it was awkward having to crouch and limp at the same time plus the rats were playing on my mind.
Ahead of me through the gloom there was what looked like a gate if some kind. A few moments later I was standing in front of a locked steel gate. I put my hands to the thick steel bars and shook it, it rattled but didn’t budge. The rattling echoed along the tunnel. I shone the torch around it, there was no way over or around, the bars went right up to the edge of the tunnel. But wait, in the bottom left hand corner as I faced the gate was a way through.
A single bar had been removed from part of the fencing that held the gate. It would be enough for me to get through. Woolfe was only a slightly slimmer build than me so if he could get through then I should be able to wriggle through as well. A few moments later I was on the other side making my way along the sewer again. I was beginning to feel an overwhelming excitement by now. I had been ignoring it for a while but it was starting to take control of me. There was a way out along this tunnel. Woolfe had been trying to escape. I was right all along.
My pace began to pick up and I was almost jogging, the pain in my leg was getting stronger again with the extra effort but I didn’t really care. I was only interested in what was at the other end of the tunnel. I checked my watch again, ten more minutes and I would have to start heading back. But then I thought, what if there is nothing stopping me from escaping now? Suppose I get to the end of this tunnel and nothing is stopping me from the outside world? All reason was out of the window and I found myself moving quicker along the tunnel, almost at a full run now. I had to get out of here.
Then I could see it ahead of me, a dot of light in the gloom getting bigger by the second. I was out of breath and could feel my heart pounding in my ears, I was beginning to feel light headed. The light ahead of me was getting brighter and brighter. I didn’t need the torch now to see my way, there was only another forty yards at most. Then I was there, at the end of the tunnel, and another gate. It was locked as the previous one. I looked around it quickly for another missing bar but there wasn’t one.
I could see outside past the gate there was an open sewer and then more pipes disappearing underground. There were fields all around and in the distance a town. I could see roofs and chimneys and a tall church spire. To the left of me at the top of an embankment a small country lane wound towards the town. I grabbed at the bars again and shook them with what energy I had remaining. They rattled and shook as the previous gate but didn’t budge. I fell to the floor feeling exhausted and rested my back on the side of the tunnel wall.
Feeling deflated now I looked at my watch, it was time to start heading back. Just before that I started examining the bars a bit more closely. Around one of them where I was sitting there were iron filings and bits of swarf. The bar itself had mud caked around the bottom, as did the others but this was darker. It had dried out around the other bars but this was still not totally dry. I scraped the mud away and to my delight saw that the bottom of the bar had been partly sawn, not all the way probably about three quarters through.
I knew there was no way out for me today and should go now to get back to the classroom but spent a minute or so looking around in every nook and cranny around the gate. Then I found what I was looking for, a hacksaw blade. It was hidden in the wall between the second and third course of bricks. The mortar had been scraped out so it would fit. I guessed Woolfe wouldn’t have risked carrying a hacksaw blade around with him. It was well worn but it was enough to work
on the remaining bar. It must have taken Woolfe ages to have come this far, the steel bars would have been made of hardened steel and to cut through them with a worn hacksaw must have been slow painful going.
I realised that the cuts and marks on Woolfe's arms I had noticed days earlier must have been from where he was working on the bars to get him this far. I replaced the blade and started to head back. I could have stayed and carried on cutting the remaining bar but common sense was returning and a plan was beginning to form in my mind. For now I had to make my way back to the computer room and then my cell, for one more night.
Sitting in the dining hall that night I was feeling pretty good about myself again. I’d just finished another tasteless delight that I’d brought to life with the HP sauce. Muzzleflash and his team were just finishing up at the servery and they would soon be joining me to tuck into their dinner. I was using the time to reflect on the day’s events and the discovery of a way out. For the first time doubts started to cross my mind, should I go?
I had really only just started my three year sentence. It had only been two months ago that I was an unconvicted free man. Two months but it had seemed an absolute lifetime. Life on the inside had slowed down dramatically from the outside world, another thirty four months of this would break me, I was convinced of that. No, there was no choice now that I thought about it, I would have to go. But I would be continually hunted by the police and could end up back here at any time. Why was I here though, was it my fault? It was, I decided. I didn’t know the hired help very well. I think I was probably getting a bit too cocky, thinking I was always going to get away with it and never going to get caught, I was the infamous Jack London.
Well, I had been caught and here I was looking at a three stretch. What if I hadn’t got the film destroyed showing me sticking a shotgun in that bank managers mouth? What if I had pulled that trigger? Three years would fly by on the out, but not here. That was it then, decided. I would take my chances on the out, scale back my operation to a trusted team and find a new base. It was doable.