I could not help shivering at his words because it was obvious that he meant them. That was painfully clear. ‘I’ll get you out,’ I said. But to this I added the unspoken promise that I would see to it that he got nowhere near the object of his revenge. I was not going to start my new criminal career as an accomplice to murder.
Stinger took me under his protective wing at once. He shook my hand, crushing my fingers with that deadly grip, then led me over to his followers.
‘This is Jim,’ he said. ‘Treat him well. Anyone causes him trouble got trouble with me.’ They were all insincere smiles and promises of affection – but at least they wouldn’t bother me. I had the protection of those mighty fists. One of them rested on my shoulder as we strolled away. ‘How you going to do it?’ he asked.
‘I’ll tell you in the morning. I’m making the last arrangements now,’ I lied. ‘See you then.’ I strolled off on an inspection tour, almost as eager to be out of this sordid place as he was. For a different reason. His was revenge – mine was depression. They were losers in here, all losers, and I like to think of myself as a winner. I wanted to be well away from them all and back in the fresh air.
I spent the next twenty-four hours finding the best way out of the prison. I could open all of the mechanical locks inside the prison easily enough; my lockpick worked fine on our cell door. The only problem was the electronic gate that opened into the outer courtyard. Given time – and the right equipment – I could have opened that too. But not under the eyes of guards stationed right around the clock in the observation booth above it. That was the obvious way out so it was the route to be avoided. I needed a better idea of the layout of the prison – so a reconnoitre was very much in order.
It was after midnight when I eased out of my bed. No shoes, I had to be as quiet as possible, so three pairs of socks should do the job. Working silently I stuffed extra clothing under the blankets so the bed would look occupied if one of the guards should look in through the barred door. Willy was snoring lustily when I clicked the lock open and slipped out into the corridor. He wasn’t the only one enjoying his sacktime and the walls echoed with zzzzing and gronking. The night-lights were on and I was alone on the landing. I looked over the edge carefully and saw that the guard on the floor below was working on his racing form. Wonderful, I hoped that he had a winner. Silent as a shadow I went to the stairs and up them to the floor above.
Which was depressingly identical to the one below; nothing but cells. As was the next floor and the one above that. Which was the top floor so I could go no higher. I was about to retrace my steps when my eye caught a glint of metal in the shadows at the far end. Nothing ventured, as the expression goes. I scuttled past the barred doors, and then – I hoped – sleeping inmates, to the distant wall.
Well, well, what did we have here! Iron rungs in the wall – vanishing up into the darkness. I grabbed onto the first one and vanished up with them. The last rung was just below the ceiling. It was also just under a trapdoor that was let into the ceiling above. Metal, with a metal frame, and locked securely as I discovered when I pushed up against it. There had to be a lock, but it was invisible in the darkness. And I had to find it. Looping one arm through the iron rung I began to run my fingertips over the surface of the door in what I hoped was a regular pattern.
There was nothing there. I tried again, changing hands because my arm felt like it was being dragged from its socket – with the same result. But there had to be a lock. I was panicking and not using my brain. I fought back my rising fears and stirred up my brain cells. There must be a lock or seal of some kind. And it was not on the trapdoor. So – it had to be on the frame. I reached out slowly, ran my fingers along the sides of the frame. And found it at once.
How simple the answers are when you ask the right questions! I eased the lockpick from my pocket and slipped it into the lock. Within seconds it, had clicked open. Seconds after that I had pushed the trapdoor up, climbed through, closed it behind me – and sniffed appreciatively of the cool night air.
I was out of prison! Standing on the roof, yes, of course, but free in spirit at least. The stars were bright above and shed enough light so I could see across the dark surface. It was flat and broad, bordered with a knee-high parapet and studded with vents and pipes. Something large and bulky occluded the sky, and when I worked my way close to it I heard the dripping of water. The water tank, fine, now what was visible below?
To the front I looked down into the well-lit courtyard, guarded and secure. But what was the back like?
Far more interesting I assure you. There was a straight drop of five storeys to a rear yard, which was feebly illuminated by a single bulb. There were waste bins there, and barrels, and a heavy gate in the outer wall. Locked, undoubtedly. But what man had locked man could unlock. Or rather I could. This was the way out.
Of course there was five-storey drop, but something could be worked there. Or perhaps I could find another way into the back yard. Plenty of time to run through the permutations of escape; six days yet. My feet were getting cold and I yawned and shivered. I had done enough for one night. My hard prison bunk seemed very attractive at this moment.
Carefully and silently I retraced my steps. Eased the trapdoor shut above me, checked to see that it was locked, went down the ladder and the stairs to my floor …
And heard the voices ahead. Loud and clear. The loudest of all being my cellmate Willy. I took one horrified look at the open door of my cell, at the heavy boots of the guards there, then pulled myself back and ran up the stairs again. With Willy’s words ringing like a tocsin of doom in my ears.
‘I woke and he was gone! I was alone! Monsters ate him or something! That’s when I started shouting. Save me, please! Whatever got him came right through the locked door. It’s gonna get me next!’
CHAPTER FOUR
Anger at my cretinous cellmate warmed me; the imminence of my capture instantly chilled me again. I fled unthinkingly, away from the voices and commotion. Back up the stairs, one flight, another –
Then all the lights came on and the sirens began to wail. The prisoners stirred and called out to one another. In a few moments they would be at the cell doors, would see me, would cry out, guards would appear. There was no escape. I knew this, yet all I could do was run. To the top floor – then past the cells there. All of which were now brightly lit. I would be seen by the prisoners as I went by them, and I knew for certain that I would be ratted on by whichever juvenile delinquent spotted me. It was all over.
Head high, I walked past the first cell and glanced in as I passed.
It was empty. As were all of the other cells on this floor. I still had a chance! Like a demented ape I swarmed up the iron rungs and fumbled my lockpick into the lock. There were voices below me, getting louder, and footsteps as well as two of the guards ascended the stairs which faced away from me. But all that one of them had to do was turn his head. And when they reached the floor I would be seen at once.
The lock clicked open and I pushed and swarmed up through the opening. Flat on the roof I eased the door down. Seeing two fat guards through the opening just turning my way as it shut.
Had they seen it closing? My heart thudded like an insane drum and I gasped for air and waited for the shouts of alarm.
They did not come. I was still free.
Some freedom! Depression instantly clutched and shook me. Free to lie on the roof, to shiver violently as the perspiration began to dry, free to huddle up here until I was found.
So I huddled and shivered and generally felt sorry for myself for about a minute. Then I stood and shook myself like a dog and felt the anger begin to rise.
‘Big criminal,’ I whispered aloud, just to make sure that I heard. ‘Life of crime. And on your first big job you let yourself be trapped by a knife-wielding moron. You’ve learned a lesson, Jim. May you some day be free to put it into practice. Always guard your flanks and your rear. Consider all the possibilities. Consider the fact that the cretin migh
t have woken up. So you should have coshed him or something to make certain of his sound sleep. Which is certainly water over the dam. Remember the lesson well but look around now and try to make the best of this rapidly disintegrating escape.’
My options were limited. If the guards opened the trapdoor and came up to the roof they would find me. Was there any place to hide? The top of the water tank might offer a temporary refuge, but if they came this far they would certainly look there as well. But with no way to get down the sheer walls it offered the only feeble hope. Get up there.
It wasn’t easy. It was made of smooth metal and the top was just beyond my reach. But I had to do it. I stepped back and took a run, leaped and felt my fingers just grasp the edge. I scrabbled for a hold but they pulled loose and I dropped heavily back to the roof. Anyone below would have certainly heard that. I hoped I was over an empty cell and not the hall.
‘Enough hoping and not enough trying, Jim,’ I said, and added a few curses in the hope of building my morale. I had to get up there!
This time I retreated to the far edge, the backs of my knees against the parapet, taking breath after deep breath. Go!
Run up, fast, the right spot – jump!
My right hand slapped against the edge. I grabbed and heaved. Got my other hand up there and pulled mightily, scraping and bruising myself on the rough metal, hauling myself up onto the top of the tank.
To lie there breathing heavily, looking at a dead bird not a foot from my face, vacant eyes staring into mine. I started to pull away when I heard the trapdoor slam heavily back onto the roof.
‘Give me a push up, will you? I’m stuck!’
By the wheezing and grunting that followed I was sure that this had to be one of the fat guards that I had seen on the floor below. More gasping and puffing heralded the arrival of his adipose companion.
‘I don’t know what we’re doing up here,’ the first arrival whined.
‘I do,’ his companion said quite firmly. ‘We’re obeying orders, which never did no one no harm.’
‘But the hatch was locked.’
‘So was the cell door he went through. Look around.’
The heavy footsteps circled the roof, then returned.
‘Not here. No place to hide. Not even hanging over the edge because I looked.’
‘There is one place, one place we haven’t looked.’
I could feel the eyes burning towards me through the solid metal. My heart had started the drumbeat thing again. I clutched at the rusty metal and felt only despair as the footsteps crunched close.
‘He could never climb up there. Too high. I can’t even reach the top.’
‘You can’t even reach your shoelaces when you bend over. Come on, give me a lift up. If you boost my foot I can reach up and grab on. All I got to do is take a look.’
How right he was. Just one look. And there was nothing I could do about it. With the lethargy of defeat possessing me I lay there, hearing the scratching and the curses, the overweight puffing and scrabbling. The scratching grew closer and not a foot before my face a large hand appeared, groping over the edge.
My subconscious must have done it because I swear there was no logical thought involved. My hand shot out and pushed the dead bird forward, to the very edge, below the fingers – which descended and closed on it.
The results were eminently satisfying. The bird vanished, as did the hand, followed by screams and shouts, scrabblings and two large thuds.
‘Why did you do that?’
‘I grabbed it, uggh – oww! My ankle is broke.’
‘See if you can stand on it. Here, hold my shoulder. Hop along on the other foot, this way …’
There was plenty of shouting back and forth through the trapdoor while I hugged myself with relief and pleasure. They might be back soon, there was that chance, but at least the first round was mine.
As the seconds, then the minutes, moved slowly by I realised that I had won the second round as well. The search had moved away from the roof. For the moment. The sirens cut off and the bustle moved down to the ground below. There were shouts and the slamming of doors, racing of engines as cars moved out into the night. Not soon after – wonder of wonders – the lights began to go out. The first search was over. I started to doze – then jerked myself awake.
‘Dummy! You are still in the soup. The search has been made, but this joint is still sealed tight. And you can bet your last buck that starting at first light they will go through every nook and corner. And they’ll be up here with a ladder this time. So with that in mind it is time to move.’
And I knew just where I was moving to. The last place they would look for me this night.
Through the trapdoor one last time, and down the darkened corridor. Some of the inmates were still muttering about the events of the night, but all of them appeared to be back in their bunks. Silently I slipped down the stairs and up to cell 567B. Opening it in absolute silence and closing it behind me the same way. Past my stripped bunk to the other bunk where my fink friend Willy slept the sleep of the unjust.
My hand clamped his mouth shut, his eyes sprang open and I exacted primal and sadistic pleasure by whispering in his ear.
‘You are dead, you rat, dead. You called the guards and now you are going to get what you deserve …’
His body gave one gigantic heave then went limp. The eyes were closed. Had I killed him? At once I regretted the bad taste of my little joke. No, not dead, passed out, his breathing light and slow. I went to get a towel, soaked it in cold water – then let him have it right in the mush.
His scream turned to a gurgle as I stuffed the towel into his mouth.
‘I’m a generous man, Willy, that’s how lucky you are. I’m not going to kill you.’ My whispered words seemed to reassure him because I felt the tremble in his body subside. ‘You are going to help me. If you do that you will come to no harm. You have my word. Now prepare to answer my question. Think carefully about this. You are going to whisper just one thing. You are going to tell me the number of the cell that Stinger is in. Nod your head if you are ready. Good. I’m taking the towel away. But if you try any tricks or say anything – anything – else, why then you are dead. Here goes.’
‘… 231B …’
This same floor, good. The towel went right back in. Then I pressed hard behind his right ear, applying continuous pressure to the blood vessel that leads to the brain. Six seconds unconsciousness, ten seconds death. He thrashed then went limp again. I released my thumb on the count of seven. I do have a forgiving nature.
I used the towel to clean my face and hands, then groped for my shoes and put them on. Along with another shirt and my jacket. After that I gurgled down at least a litre of water and was ready to face the world again. I stripped the blankets from the beds, bundled them under my arm – then left.
On tiptoe, as silently as I could, I slipped down to Stinger’s cell. I felt immune, impervious. I realised that this was both foolish and dangerous. But after the traumatic events of the evening I seemed to have run out of fear. The cell door opened beneath my delicate touch and Stinger’s eyes opened as well when I pushed his shoulder.
‘Get dressed,’ I said quietly. ‘We’re getting out now.’
I’ll give him this much – he didn’t bother asking questions. Just pulled his clothes on while I took the blankets from his bunk. ‘We need at least two more,’ I said.
‘I’ll get Eddie’s.’
‘He’ll wake up.’
‘I’ll see he goes back to sleep.’
There was a murmured question – followed by a solid thud. Eddie went back to sleep and Stinger brought over the blankets.
‘Here’s what we do,’ I told him. ‘I found the way up to the roof. We go there and knot these blankets together. Then we climb down them and get away. Okay?’
Okay! I had never heard a more insane plan in my life. But not Stinger.
‘Okay! Let’s go!’
Once more up the stairs – I was rea
lly getting pretty tired of this – and tired all over as well. I climbed the rungs, opened the trapdoor, and pushed the blankets through onto the roof when he passed them up to me. He didn’t say a word until I had closed and sealed the door again.
‘What happened? I heard you got away and I was going to kill you if they ever brought you back.’
‘It’s not that simple. I’ll tell you when we get clear. Now let’s start tying. Opposite corners lengthwise, we need all the length I we can get. Use a square knot like you learned in the Boy Sprouts. Like this.’
We knotted and tied like crazy until they were all connected, then took the ends and pulled and grunted and that was that. I tied one end to a solid looking pipe and threw a bundle of I blankets over the side.
‘At least twenty feet short,’ Stinger said scowling down at the ground. ‘You go first because you’re lighter. If it breaks with meat least you got a chance. Get moving.’
The logic of this could not be argued with. I climbed up on the parapet and seized the top blanket. Stinger squeezed my arm with an unexpected show of emotion. Then I was climbing down.
It was not easy. My hands were tired and the blanket fabric hard to grip. I went down as quickly as I could because I knew that my strength was running out.
Then my legs scrabbled at empty air and I had reached the end. The hard floor of the courtyard appeared to be very far below. It was difficult to let go – or rather really very easy. I could hold on no longer. My fingers opened and I fell –
– Hit and rolled and sat on the ground gasping for breath. I had done it. High above I could see the dark figure of Stinger swarming down the rope, hand over hand. Within seconds he was on the ground, landing light as a cat beside me, helping me to my feet. Half supporting me as I stumbled to the gate.
My fingers were trembling and I couldn’t get the lock open. We were painfully visible here under the light and if any of the guards glanced out of a window above we were trapped …
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