Six hours later, his assistant woke him up to tell him she’d prepared the latest report on the crackdown of Hunterman. A quick look at all that had been done made his day a brilliant one. He hugged Mrs. Lenny, his assistant, in excitement, and she giggled, then scrunched up her nose at him. Nigel needed a bath, and he had to go home and clean up.
That shower was the most relaxing he’d had since all of it had started way back in Argentina. After he was all cleaned up and felt the stress melt away, he was finally ready to visit the man he called Mathews.
When Nigel first walked in, the two just stared at each other. The security guard, who was much smaller than the giant they had appointed to watch Willis, made his way out; if it had been up to Nigel, the giant would have been permanently stationed there, for Matt was unpredictable, a smart, sick fox.
At first, they talked about Halden, but the conversation quickly turned to Hunterman. Nigel told him what he wanted him to know about the investigation and explained what would happen next. ”You’ll be held in protective custody for the next few months, till all the legal matters are sorted out. When the case gets underway, you’ll be asked to give testimony on everything you know, including what happened the night of the faceoff.” Nigel then went on to explain to Matt what he should say about the events of that night.
Matt looked at his hand, which was heavily bandaged, then looked at Nigel. He showed no resentment over his slashed-off thumb. “I guess I deserved that, Nigel, but it only happened because I was passed out. Anyway, enjoy the ride to the top. Maybe we’ll meet again one day, when you’re heading up that office…if not sooner.”
“Maybe. We never know where we’ll be… Wait. I take that back. For the next fifteen years at least, we know exactly where you’ll be, Mathews,” Nigel said as he got up to make his way out.
“Two years, fifteen years… Numbers don’t matter to me. Take care, Mr. Nigel,” Matt said.
“It’s just ‘Nigel’.”
“And it’s just ‘Matt,’” Matt said, grinning. “You’ll learn that one of these days.”
Those were the last words the men spoke to each other before Matt left American soil and made his way to Oslo, Norway, where he would be handed over to the Norwegian authorities.
Nigel had cleverly arranged a story in which Matt was born in Norway 1982, to an English father and Norwegian mother, and had spent most of his life in London. He was allegedly one of three gang members who’d attempted to rob a bank in Oslo, only to get caught and be smacked with a fifteen-year sentence, not a day less. There were plenty of records to back this fake story up, including full medical reports and graduation certificates that looked absolutely official, including seals and signatures.
* * *
The two-hour train trip to Halden from Oslo Airport was pleasant, and the scenery was amazing. Halden was located by two important cities, Oslo in Norway and Gothenburg in Sweden. It was surrounded by lake forests on one side and beautiful skerries on the other.
Matt, aka Michael, was taken to a police station, then escorted to the prison by bus. His eyes never left the windows during that drive. When he spotted a prominent fort on a hill, he asked about it and was informed that it was Fredriksten Fortress, the most visited place in Halden for the tourists who flocked into the city during the summer months and the 30,000 inhabitants of the city that would be his home for the next fifteen years, at least on paper.
Halden Prison was exactly like everything Matt had read and studied, a five-star jail. Each prisoner had his own room, a small but efficient space furnished with a bed, a clean sink and toilet, a small flat-screen, a DVD player, and a nice wardrobe, quite like an IKEA showroom. Everything outdoors was lovely. There were huge trees and plenty of greenery, as well as a small pond that was enjoyed by ducks, birds, and inmates alike. Truly, it was the perfect place for Matt to refresh his mind and recoup.
The prison was maximum security inside and out, and that brought him some relief as well, since he was sure he would be a target of Hunterman during the investigations. The Feds and Nigel had done their best to hide his identity, but if he was ever exposed, the authorities had a better chance of protecting him in the prison. Matt was not naïve about things, and he always played it safe.
The first three weeks passed slowly but quietly. To the other 200 inmates, Matt was an outsider. He remained a loner by his own will, but he knew that sooner or later, whoever was in charge would approach him.
Through his observations, he’d pinpointed three groups in the prison society. The Somali, Arabic and Muslims kept to themselves. There were also the local white folks, originally from Scandinavia. The third group consisted of Albanians. He knew the white folks would make contact with him first, and he knew who was making the calls in that group.
Exactly twenty-three days after his arrival, Matt was approached by the white group through a cheeky, small guy named Henrik. Just like in all the prison movies Matt had ever seen, Henrik was sent by his elders to check out the new guy. Matt had nothing to fear; the things he had seen outside that prison were far worse than anything in any of the prisoners’ nightmares. He knew he was smarter, wiser, and more manic than any of them. With his personality, his concocted back-story, and his clever way of getting things done, he quickly became popular. He was also a good basketball player, which earned him additional prestige and respect in the prison. Other teams were on the losing end because of his three-point shots, and he was seen as a hero because of that.
As time passed, Matt gradually studied the four members of his group who called the shots. Two months, he was one of them, the fifth elder, and he had them all in the pocket. In just a small matter of time, he was the one checking the newcomers out as soon as they stepped foot inside the prison. Matt was always on alert, as he knew it was not wise to trust anyone completely, but time after time, they just turned out to be normal people who had made a wrong turn in life somewhere along the line.
Matt’s first year of prison life was quite calm. When he wasn’t with the boys, he exercised a lot and read at night. In fact, he’d read twenty-four books in six months, due, in part, to his twice-a-week shift at the prison library. It was a very extensive library, comparable to the ones in most towns and probably more organized. The selection of books was vast, and books that weren’t there already could be ordered online for a portion of the nine-dollar hourly salary he earned working in the jail. Thus, he was never short on reading material.
Matt also worked at the jail’s canteen. He mainly worked on inventory, and he was so good with numbers that even the security guards insisted that he manage the food and beverage stock at the start of each week. Everyone at Halden loved the salmon and lamb roast they served, and he had to make sure there was plenty of it. When it came to food, there was no difference between the guards and the prisoners; everyone enjoyed tantalizing their taste buds.
When Matt exercised outside, he carefully observed his surroundings. Time was on his side, and all the rest had helped get him back to a proper state of mind, to balance his thinking. By the second year, his mind was steadily at work.
Escaping wasn’t impossible; in fact, he already had it partially figured it out. If he was like any other inmate, he could have pulled it off, but he wasn’t. Unlike his cellmates, he had a tracking device stuck deep in his shoulder, one he had no idea how to safely remove. That was the missing piece of the puzzle for Matt, until the beautiful, sunny summer morning when Lt. Thomasson arrived, just two years and several months after Matt had stepped off the prison bus.
Finale
The first Sunday of each month, the same Volvo bus entered the premises of Halden Prison, followed by two police cars, to unload the new inmates at the five-star establishment.
Matt took his seat in what the inmates called “the VIP booth,” the upper level of the basketball court bleachers. They all took out their smokes and popcorn to watch the lineup of the new kids on the prison block, and they enjoyed the show as if they were watching a blockbus
ter movie.
The guards and their dogs searched the outside of the bus before motioning to the driver to open the bus doors. Then, the two armed guards who had escorted the prisoners all the way motioned to the guards on the floor that all was set, and the guards unlocked the prisoners and lined them up.
Matt studied the nine newcomers carefully. One who caught his eye right away was the tall guy, the third man from the right. His intimidating physique spoke for itself, as he had a very broad chest, and his shoulders were wide. His hair was blond and cut very short. In spite of his chubby, round face, he wore a serious expression, but he was good-looking even behind his wide glasses. Matt felt lucky that the man was white, as he would be an extra tall player for the team. The monthly delivery was good fortune for him, only in more ways than he could possibly imagine.
The new fish were typically left alone for a few days, so they could be observed and investigated. The minute Matt learned about the man’s background, he knew it was a golden opportunity.
Lt. Thomasson, a NATO army surgeon, had spent two years in Afghanistan. He was dismissed after purposely killing another NATO soldier. The reason was known to all: He did it because the other soldier had killed and raped a young Afghani girl, only sixteen, the same age as his daughter. Superiors tried to cover up the barbaric act, but Thomasson couldn’t take it. One day, when Jacob, the guilty soldier, was drunk he began bragging about how he had made the young girl enjoy her last moments. Lt. Thomasson, furious, got up, punched Jacob in the face, then pulled out his gun and planted a bullet in the rapist’s skull. The story spread like a virus throughout the ranks of the army.
The investigations went on and on, and many names came up during the scandal, as quite a few were involved in covering up everything from the girl’s murder to Jacob’s death. In the end, parties met, and agreements were made behind closed doors that were not in favor of Lt. Thomasson. He was found guilty, dishonorably discharged, and handed a five-year jail sentence. His wife divorced him and took away his daughter Christina, the most important thing in his life. How he was there at Halden, right in the hands of Matt. That was destiny. Thomasson was the savior, the miracle Matt had patiently been waiting for. All he had to do was play his cards right, and he did.
Lt. Thomasson had to serve five years in jail because he’d done what the authorities had failed to do: put a criminal thug in his right place. At least that was how he and the poor girl’s family saw it. He lost his wife in the process, as she was waiting for any excuse to leave him anyway. He was a man betrayed by many, a resentful man who’d been cheated by the weak, unjust system, and that gave Matt an automatic in with him.
At his own pace, Matt showed Thomasson his disgust over the fraudulent justice system that ruled the world. Their conversations lasted for many hours, and Thomasson eventually began to trust Matt. The lieutenant was bitter and fuming, something Matt could relate to. Matt built his plan carefully, brick by brick. He was certain that Thomasson was the right person for the job, as he’d been screwed from every angle possible. He had lost his honor while defending freedom. He was also a surgeon, a damn good one based on the stories he shared.
Thomasson had taken out artillery bullets, metal parts, nails from handmade mortar bombs, and grenades shrapnel from dozens and dozens of injured soldiers. He explained his surgical accomplishments in vivid detail. At times, he had to operate on temporary bases in mountains and villages on the outskirts of Kabul, on nights so dark that even a single star in the sky could not be seen. When winter came, the freezing wind only piled on more misery. He had saved more lives than he could recall, and he had treated, scars, bodies torn in half, and injuries that ripped some soldiers beyond human recognition. When his convoy was hit, he came out of it with a few broken ribs and a big scar on his chest. He was truly a hero, and the more the lieutenant talked, the more Matt celebrated inside.
“I had to act fast, because if there was even a second of delay, they could have died. At times, they brought in men with half their body parts missing. We did magic to save them. Now, I have to spend years here, while my daughter struggles to have the decent life she deserves. Damn. I was making good money, and her mom was happy with it. Why wouldn’t she be? All she had to do was sleep all day and drink her life away. I worked my ass off, but she hasn’t worked for the last five years. How will my little girl survive with a mother like that?” Thomasson complained as he took basketball shots, so agitated that he missed most of them.
“Lieutenant, my wife was raped and murdered by a gang of teenagers. They got ten years. Was that fair? Nope. I took my revenge, and now I’m stuck here for the next fifteen years. It was worth it—not the number of years, but getting justice, I mean. They won’t keep me here for fifteen years though.”
“They won’t?”
“No. That’s just what they’ve got down on paper. Between us, I’ll be out in ten days, and you’re gonna help me. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because if you do, your daughter will become whatever she wants to be. She’ll enjoy an honest life, get a proper education.”
“But…how? I don’t get what you’re saying.”
“She’ll be $250,000 richer…or I guess the fair price would be $300,000” Matt replied as he made a three-pointer. He smiled as the ball swooshed through the hoop. “We’ll talk tomorrow. It won’t be easy, but I can promise you it’ll be worth it—for both of us.”
That night, Thomasson lay awake all night, wondering what Matt was up to.
* * *
The next day, Matt went on a walk with the miserable-looking Thomasson. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m known here for stocking the canteen. Starting this Sunday, you’ll escort me each week, off the premises, to the small warehouse where we collect the weekly food stock. It’s only a five-minute drive, and we’ll be accompanied by three guards, all armed, and a driver. Both of us will be handcuffed till we reach the place. When we get there, they’ll take off the cuffs, and we have to place the food in empty boxes.”
“Okay…”
“You’ve seen me sit down with the inmates so they can vote on the food for the next week, right?” Matt said. “Everybody wants the five-star treatment around here.”
The lieutenant nodded. “Yeah.”
Matt continued, “Well, it’s a fixed-time job. We’ll be inside for no more than fifteen minutes, with the two guards and the two workers from the warehouse. One of those two warehouse workers can be bought. I have used him before for small things like cigarettes, medicine, hash, and the like. The driver will be outside, along with the third guard. If we’re not out in exactly fifteen minutes, they’ll think something fishy is up, and all hell will break loose, so we can’t afford to mess up. When we take the stuff out of the back, I’ll take out the sleeping gas and the three gas masks that will be planted there by our friend, behind one of the boxes. At precisely the right time, I’ll pull the trigger. In less than thirty seconds, everyone will be out cold except us.”
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me, Lieutenant. This is my expertise. You just cover your face for half a minute while I pass you the mask. You then have exactly five minutes to find a hidden tracking chip in my shoulder. You need to take it out and stitch me back up,” Matt said, looking Thomasson straight in the eyes to emphasize just how serious he was.
“Tracking device? Who the hell are you?” asked Thomasson.
“Not to complicate it more, but as the devices are removed, it may inject me with a powerful sedative, and I’ll be out within a minute. Don’t worry about that if it happens. Just finish your work. Then you, Lieutenant, like the rest will take the mask off and go to sleep. I’m sorry about that part, but we don’t want anyone to suspect your involvement, or they’ll just sentence you to more time. My insider will clean up the mess and take me out a secret back door. You will never hear my name again…at least not the one you know me by.”
The lieutenant looked at Matt doubtfully. “I’m sorr
y, and I’ve heard a lot of crazy things, but a tracking device? A sedative? Stitching you up while I’m wearing a gas mask? It seems like you’ve got this all planned out, but are you trusting this guy too much? I mean, what if—”
Matt held up his hand to stop him. “I’m giving him the sum of five hard years of his existing work, double-folded. He has no family, and he’ll have the whole world to hide in, for his remaining pathetic life. With a deal like that, I’ve got no reason not to trust him. Like I said, he can be bought.”
* * *
Two weeks later, Nigel woke up in the middle of the night. He cracked a smile, when he saw a message on his cell: “Urgent Mathews,” the name he had set up for the person in charge of giving him the exact news he was about to hear.
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but your man has escaped six hours ago.”
“Nearly three years? Can’t say I am surprised. He took out his shoulder chip?” Nigel asked.
“Yes. We found it in a warehouse near the prison.”
“What a fool. Where is he now?” Nigel inquired as he climbed out of bed and opened his wardrobe.
“Stockholm, Central Train Station, inside DB 3145 and headed to Koln, Germany.”
“Okay. Keep tracking him with our devices, but there’s no need to follow him. The idiot doesn’t know another tracker was planted in the bullet he took. I’ll be on the first plane tomorrow, and then I’ll pay him his last visit on Earth.”
Twenty-four hours later, Nigel was headed back to the DC, replaying the phone call over again and again in his head:
“Remember when I said I trust you, Nigel? Well, I lied. A thumb for a thumb, right?”
“I am waiting, Matt.”
As he pondered that conversation, he was angry all over again because the bastard had finally trigged him to call him the name he had vowed he would never use.
Matt: A Matt Godfrey Short thriller Trilogy Page 16