Slammer

by Allan Guthrie

  Caesar's eyes were closed, his trousers around his ankles. Jasmine was on her knees. Her eyes widened when she saw Glass but she didn't stop what she was doing. If anything, she seemed to set to it with more enthusiasm.

  'I ought to put you on report,' Glass said.

  Caesar grinned, his eyes still closed. 'Officer Glass, give me a couple of minutes and I'll be right with you.'

  Jasmine waved her fingers at Glass, carried on.

  Glass turned and walked out.

  *

  In the shop, the work party was stationed round the room at the lathes, milling machines, bandsaws. All quiet.

  S.O. Neil Shaw was addressing the prisoners.

  Officers Fox and Ross hovered by the gate next to Glass, Fox stifling a yawn.

  '… close supervision,' Shaw said. 'Any more blades discovered and this workshop gets closed down permanently.'

  Groans from the cons. If they didn't get out to work, they'd be spending twenty-three hours a day locked in their cells and none of them wanted that.

  'Not bloody likely,' Fox said, under his breath.

  Glass looked at him.

  'Prison's got a contract to manufacture road signs, Dumbo,' Fox explained in a whisper. 'Nice little earner. No way the governor's going to let that go.'

  Shaw clapped his hands twice, held them together. 'So get back to work,' he said, 'and play nice.' He walked out, giving a curt nod to the officers as he passed.

  'Can't believe he wants three of us here,' Ross said.

  Fox said, 'All on account of one person's incompetence. You'd think, after six weeks' training at Polmont, Officer Glass would have learned how to set off the alarm.'

  'Maybe we can work it out between the three of us,' Ross said. 'How much training does it take to press a button?'

  It had been like this since day one. Some of Glass's colleagues had taken an instant dislike to him. And he didn't understand it. Wasn't as if he'd done them any harm. They treated him like a con. Worse, in some ways. They respected a lot of the cons.

  It had to be the fact that he was so much younger than them. He couldn't think of anything else.

  'Hey, Crystal, your boyfriend's out of the Digger today,' Ross said.

  Glass couldn't help himself. He said, 'He's not my boyfriend. I'm married. I have a kid. Go fuck yourself.'

  'Ooo,' Ross said. 'Touched a nerve, Fox.'

  'You believe him?' Fox said to Ross.

  'Too young to have a kid. Doesn't look like he shaves yet. If he is married, I bet the wife's just for show.'

  'Yeah,' Fox said. 'I bet the kid's not even his.'

  Glass could have cried. Or he could have kicked several shades of crap out of them, even if Ross was a woman. She wasn't the type to hide behind her tits. He did neither, though. He just stood there and tried to look like it wasn't bothering him.

  After a bit, they turned, walked away, Ross saying to Fox, 'Bet you a tenner he doesn't last the week.'

  *

  Half an hour later, the noise in the machine shop making his skull rattle, Glass bent his head for a minute, and that's all it took.

  Thwack.

  Bing.

  Rattle.

  He heard it. Didn't know what it was.

  Cold broke out on his forehead. No sweat, just cold.

  He looked down to the side. And there it was, rolling in a slow arc on the floor.

  A metal spike.

  Laughter rose above the whine of the machines.

  He dared to look up and Caesar was baying at him, fixed grin like some cartoon character. Horse was bent double, acting like he'd just witnessed the greatest comedy show on earth, the prick. The other cons were all laughing too.

  Funny. Yeah. Fucking side-splittingly fucking funny.

  Fox and Ross had followed the gaze of the cons and were looking Glass's way now. Side by side, they moved to a position where they could see the spike on the floor.

  And they laughed too. Course they did.

  Glass picked up the spike. 'Turn those machines off,' he shouted.

  Nobody paid him any attention. Well, he'd see who could press a button.

  He walked over to the wall, switched off all the power. The machines died, and the laughter crashed around him, loud. He had their attention. Problem was, he didn't know what to do next.

  Hit the alarm.

  Like he should have done when Peeler went berserk with the machete.

  Throw the spike back at them.

  But at who?

  Try to find the culprit.

  He scanned the room.

  Catch his eyes, he'll look away.

  Not these fuckers. They weren't normal. They'd hold his gaze. Guilt didn't register.

  It was pointless. There was nothing he could do.

  They were still staring at him. Waiting, quiet now, for him to speak. The weight of the spike in his hand was dragging him down. That thing had narrowly missed his head. Jesus fucking Christ.

  He had to say something. He said, 'Somebody lose this?'

  Silence expanded like a balloon until it was about to pop.

  Then, a chuckle. And another. And another.

  He tried to hold his smile but his lips quivered, so he placed the spike on the nearest bench to show them he wasn't scared. He bowed his head, turned the power back on. As the machines coughed back into life, he returned to his post at the gate and folded his arms.

  No big deal.

  When he looked up, Fox was staring at him, shaking his head. Fox gestured with his wrist and mouthed the word, 'Wanker.'

  *

  'I know it was you,' Glass said.

  Free association once again, and there they were in Caesar's peter, the radio blasting yet another forgettable pop song. No blow-job to embarrass Glass this time, Jasmine having taken the opportunity to strut her stuff in front of a bigger audience.

  Caesar and Horse were both on their feet, arms folded across their bare chests. Advertisements for muscles. Glass tried not to stare at the tattoos that wound around Caesar's torso and arms but it was hard to drag his eyes away. The centrepiece was a beautiful green-eyed Medusa with snakes for hair.

  'Officer Glass,' Caesar said. 'Nick. If I wanted you hurt, you'd be hurt.'

  Jesus Christ. Was that a threat, or just a statement of fact?

  'Listen, mate,' Caesar carried on, 'if you want to find out who threw that piece of metal at you, why don't you check the surveillance tapes?'

  Talking at cross-purposes. But that was Caesar being deliberately obtuse.

  As it happened, Glass had checked the tapes. Five minutes after leaving the machine shop. Went to the tiny room known grandiosely as the Control Booth. The surveillance cameras operated only in select areas of the prison. The machine shop was one of them. He'd checked the tape only to discover that it wasn't set to record on Mondays, Wednesdays or Fridays.

  Typical. No, not typical. The fuckers knew that. Knew they could get away with it on a Wednesday.

  'That wasn't what I wanted to see you about.' Glass didn't need to explain further, but he did. 'Wasn't to talk about what happened in the machine shop.'

  'No?' Caesar said. 'Then what?'

  'Yeah, how can we help?' Horse tilted his head back, pushing his chin forward. As if he was daring Glass to punch it.

  'The other thing.' Glass didn't want to say it aloud. The music was thumping, but the peter door was open. 'You know.'

  Caesar shook his head.

  Glass said, quietly, 'With my wife?'

  Caesar went all wide-eyed, palms raised in cluelessness. Life was just one big mystery to him. 'You know what he's talking about?' he asked Horse.

  Horse shook his head. 'Buggered if I do.'

  Glass felt the tension in his shoulders, in his neck. Now that he was forced to describe how they'd threatened him, it was as if he was threatening them by doing so. It was all arse backwards. He said, 'The guy at the supermarket.' Left it at that.

  Caesar frowned. Shrugged. Looked at Horse. 'Some guy diddle
his wife when she was shopping?'

  'Wasn't me,' Horse said. 'Got a pretty solid alibi.' He laughed, a strangely gentle sound.

  'Just lay off,' Glass said. 'Fucking lay off. That's all I wanted to say.'

  Caesar took a step forward, arms by his side, flexing his triceps. 'You threatening me?'

  'I—' Glass said. Fuck it. 'Yeah.'

  Caesar breathed out. 'Well, I'm duly intimidated. Listen, Nick.' He lowered his voice. 'We need your help. We really need you to bring in this gear for us. It'll be easy. No risk.'

  'I told you, no.'

  'You're our only hope.'

  'What's wrong with your regular mule?' He hadn't wanted to get drawn into a conversation about this. Just wanted to say his piece and leave. But he didn't feel he could leave till everything was sorted out.

  'Lying low,' Caesar said.

  'What does that mean?'

  'Why? You trying to work out who it is?'

  He was curious, certainly. And it wouldn't hurt to have some information he could use against Caesar. But there was no chance of that now.

  'Oh, yeah,' Caesar said. 'I can see through you, Glass.'

  Horse laughed. 'See through him. Nice one.'

  'Never heard that one before,' Glass said.

  'Lighten up,' Caesar said. 'Point is, I'm not in the business of fingering anyone. Very trustworthy, me. That right, Horse?'

  'Aye. Trust you with my liver.'

  Caesar squinted at him.

  'You know,' Horse said, 'if my liver ever fell out or something and you found it, I'd trust you with it.'

  'You wouldn't trust anyone else?'

  'Nah,' Horse said. 'Most of the tossers round here would fry it up and eat it.'

  'I'm touched,' Caesar said.

  Glass didn't want to listen to these arseholes any longer. Sometimes he forgot what they'd done, why they were in the Hilton. Caesar liked to brag about his crime, introduced himself to Glass on his first day as someone who liked to play games with people. And when Glass thought about what that meant, the literal nature of it, it made his balls leap for his stomach. He shouldn't forget. It was dangerous to forget. He said, 'I won't do it. I can't.' He'd be risking his job, jeopardising his family's future, facing the possibility of some jail time himself. P.O.s who committed crimes got dealt with much more severely than ordinary citizens. Made an example of. Rightly so.

  'Then we have a problem,' Caesar said. 'If we don't get this piece of business through soon, we're going to lose the whole deal.'

  'Tough.'

  'I can't be responsible for what happens then.'

  Glass clenched his fists. 'What does that mean?'

  'What I said,' Caesar said. 'Anything that might happen to … your loved ones, for instance.' He shrugged.

  So the guy at the supermarket had been sent by him.

  Glass said, 'I thought my family had nothing to do with you.'

  'Even more reason Caesar can't be responsible,' Horse said.

  'We'll pay you, of course,' Caesar said. 'Make it well worth your while. You could use the extra cash, I'm sure. Starting salary for a P.O. sucks, doesn't it? And I hear you have a nice house and no doubt a hefty mortgage to go along with it. Wife doesn't work. Kids ain't cheap.'

  'You have that guy spying on me?'

  'Keeping an eye out. In case you get hurt. Come on. Name your price.'

  'What makes you think smuggling drugs for you could ever be worth my while?'

  'Everybody has a price.'

  'I'm not doing it,' Glass said. 'I don't have a price.'

  'How old's your daughter? I hear she's pretty. Like your wife.'

  Glass imagined drawing his baton. Launching himself at them. Beating the pair of them till their tattoos ran red. Instead, he said, 'No.'

  'Think it over,' Caesar said.

  'I don't need to.'

  'I insist. Twenty-four hours.'

  'I'll still say no.'

  'That's a shame,' Caesar said. 'Cause I promise you, something very bad will happen.'

  'I'll report you.' The threat sounded pitiful as soon as he'd said it.

  'You're not taking me seriously,' Caesar said, 'and that's a really big fucking mistake. You're not as headless as you look, now, are you?'

  *

  'Did he hurt her?' Glass said.

  Lorna was better now than she'd been when he was on the phone with her earlier. He'd hurried home from work, told her not to call the police till they'd spoken.

  This is what she told him.

  About half an hour before she was due to pick up Caitlin from school, the man she'd seen at the supermarket had come to the house.

  Lorna had answered the door, not expecting him, certainly not expecting him to barge in. Well, you didn't, did you? She insisted they get a chain on the door. Glass agreed, didn't have the heart to tell her a chain wouldn't stop him next time and wouldn't have stopped him earlier today.

  The supermarket guy had clamped his hand over her mouth to stop her screaming, dragged her through to the sitting room.

  She was terrified.

  When she was telling him this, Glass's skin felt like it had been out too long in the sun. All prickly, hypersensitive.

  'I'm going to be nice today,' the supermarket guy had said to her, 'so there's no need to get upset.'

  She'd tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he'd squeezed her till she hurt. He was strong. She thought he was going to break her ribs.

  She stamped on his toes, raked her heels down his shins.

  He laughed at her, switched her hands behind her back, locked his grip on them. Like wearing a pair of handcuffs, she said.

  'Keep struggling,' he'd said. 'I like it.'

  At which point Lorna feared the worst.

  He forced her into an armchair. She sat up again as soon as he let go, ran at him, screaming. She wasn't going to let him touch her without a fight. She managed to hit him with her elbow. He absorbed the blow without so much as a grunt.

  'Shut up.' He wrapped his arms around her again.

  She kept screaming.

  'You want me to gag you?'

  Looked like he meant it. She quietened. Her breathing was rapid, though, heart beating like crazy, echoing in her ears. She asked him what he was going to do. Was he going to kill her?

  'Just sit down,' he said. 'Relax.'

  She sat down. Her arms trembled. Couldn't keep them still.

  'Mind if I put the TV on?' he asked her.

  She couldn't believe this. She was dreaming. A nightmare. She didn't respond.

  'No?' he said. 'Okay, now which is the remote?'

  She made a run for it. Didn't make it to the door. For a moment she hung in mid-air, legs kicking.

  He'd caught her round the waist, lifted her, turned her round.

  He threw her towards the chair.

  She fell over the arm, sprawled into the seat.

  'Try that again,' he said, 'and I will get nasty. Now sit still and watch some TV with me.'

  She sat still, as best she could, and watched Take The High Road, the supermarket guy having first asked if that was all right. After five minutes, she said, mouth dry, 'Why are you here?'

  'Can't I come round to visit?' He didn't take his eyes off the screen.

  'I don't know you.'

  'I'm trying to remedy that.' He gave her a quick look, flashed his teeth at her.

  'Why?' she said. 'What do you want?'

  'It's not about what I want, Lorna. Ask your husband. He'll tell you.'

  'What do you want with Nick? What's he done to you?'

  'You should speak to him yourself. Not my place to tell tales.'

  'Okay,' she said. 'I will. Would you please go now?'

  'I'm watching this.'

  'Please.'

  He looked at her. Sighed. Turned off the TV. 'You want me to pick up Caitlin for you?'

  She yelled at him: 'I don't know you and I don't want you in my house and I don't want you within a hundred miles of my daughter. Now get out.'<
br />
  'Hey,' he said, 'that's not a nice tone of voice.'

  'Get the fuck out. Get out. Get out.'

  'Just offering to help,' he said. She didn't think he'd go, but he got to his feet and said, 'I'll see myself to the door then.'

  First thing she did once he'd gone, she phoned the school. Got them to check that Caitlin was okay, told them on no account to let her get in a car with anyone other than her mother.

  Then she went to pick her up.

  Only once Caitlin was safe did she phone Nick. He told his S.O. that Caitlin was ill and came right home.

  Caitlin was safe in her room now, playing, while Mummy and Daddy talked downstairs.

  'So who is he?' Lorna asked. 'And don't lie to me this time.'

  'I don't know his name,' Glass told her. And then he told her about Caesar. About what Caesar wanted Glass to do.

  'You think he's behind this?' she asked once he'd finished.

  'I'm sure of it.'

  'We have to call the police. Put a stop to it.'

  'The police can't do anything.'

  'They can arrest the bastard who put his hands on me.'

  'I don't know.' Glass shook his head. 'Lorna, these guys are heavy-duty.'

  'Even more reason to involve the police.'

  'Let me tell you what Caesar's like. How he ended up in jail.' He looked at her and she nodded slowly. 'Caesar was caught red-handed. Out of his gourd on a cocktail of drugs. Playing football in the street.'

  'Doesn't sound so terrible.' Her lips tried to hold a smile.

  'The football,' he said. He swallowed. 'It was somebody's head.' He swallowed again. 'They found the body in Caesar's house. In his bath.'

  'Jesus.' She sat down. 'Sweet Jesus.' Looked at him, her fingers plucking at each other. 'So this guy, Caesar, he can fuck us up. Even though he's in prison. That's what you're telling me?'

  'He doesn't have boundaries.'

  'Good for him. I'm calling the police.'

  THURSDAY

  Catch him when he's vulnerable.

  Caesar was taking a dump, couldn't be much more vulnerable.

  Glass couldn't sneak up on him without being seen, though. The cubicle doors were cut away at the top and bottom, leaving only the middle of the body covered.