Murder Plot (A Sam Rader Thriller Book 3)

by Simon King

  The ruse played out perfectly and before anyone had a chance to interfere, the pre-determined exchange was over, with Tim returning into the unit. Hoping his message would reveal some sort of insight into whatever was following the Australian around, Tim returned to the common area and sat with his cell mates, doing his best to mingle into a place he knew he could never belong to.

  8

  Sam returned back to Delta Unit and after a brief exchange with one of the other officers, finally locked herself into the tiny bathroom cubicle. Only once she was safely sitting on top of the closed toilet lid, did she finally remove the crumpled piece of paper. The words not only shocked her, but gave her an instant suspect, one she already suspected of knowing more than she let on.

  Trevor Thompson was on phone with someone at 10:30 this morning. This afternoon he was moved out by an officer. A cellmate told me that Thompson claimed a female officer was persuading him to escape. They said there may be a tunnel.

  The note was brief and to the point. After reading it a second time, Sam tore it into as many tiny pieces as she could, then flushed them down the toilet, ensuring ever scrap had disappeared. Only once she was absolutely sure there were no remnants, did she return to the control room.

  The note’s contents continued to play around her mind, wondering why an officer would be trying to encourage anybody to escape. She thought about the officers she’d already met and quickly discounted Pam from the list. That woman hated prisoners with a vengeance and Sam doubted she would be going out of her way to help any of them.

  The only one she could think of was Ivy, the type of person who didn’t take crime into consideration when dealing with prisoners. She was a medical person, bound to preserve life no matter what. Perhaps Tim’s source had mistaken the nurse for an officer. It was possible. She was prone to nightly rounds and maybe had been confused for a CO during those times.

  She had to speak to Mumma urgently. It was the phone call she wondered about. If there was a chance that Trevor had spoken to someone significant on the phone, significant enough for Tim to mention it, then it may prove to be a worthy clue.

  Despite the opportunity for overtime presenting itself again, Sam declined, saying she had to meet her mother for an appointment. She had barely pulled out of the prison’s carpark, when Mumma answered on the very first ring.

  “Mumma?”

  “Get ready for a surprise, Hun,” she began, sounding overly curious.

  “You found something, didn’t you?” Sam said as she pulled out onto the main road.

  “Yes…and no.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam listened as Mumma tapped away on her keyboard before continuing.

  “Tim phoned me from the prison earlier today and suggested I listen in on the line. This Trevor character had dialed in and was still active by the time I traced the call.”

  “And? Who was he talking to? What did they say?” A brief pause.

  “Why don’t I let you listen in for yourself. Here.” After another brief delay, a high-pitched screech came through the phone, one loud enough for Sam to pull the cell from her ear. For a moment she thought the connection had dropped, replaced by some sort of interference. It wasn’t until Mumma’s voice returned, that she found out otherwise.

  “You like that?”

  “What the hell was that?” Sam said, rubbing her ear a little.

  “That is what you call a private connection.”

  “That was on purpose?” Sam asked.

  “On purpose and in some instances, necessary. That, my dear, was a private line. A digitally encrypted transmission only capable via certain networks and handsets. Whoever this Trevor Thompson was talking to, they don’t want anyone else finding out about it.”

  “Do we have a number at least? A location?”

  “Absolutely nothing.” Sam slammed her fist against the wheel.

  “Damn it.”

  “I know, Hun. We’ll get there.”

  “Tim sent me a message saying Trevor Thompson was moved out of Sierra Unit this afternoon.”

  “I know,” Mumma replied. “They moved him to Echo Unit.”

  “One of the protection units?”

  “That’s the ones. I ran a check after listening to the call. That boy is snitching and whoever was listening to him is high enough to make things happen quickly.”

  Sam thought about Henderson and wondered whether he was high enough. His anger and history for violence put him at the top of the suspect list, but Sam wondered whether he would also get involved in arranging escapes.

  “Tim said someone was trying to convince this Thompson to escape. His source said a female officer. Could you run a check on all the females working in Delta, please?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll get right on it.”

  “Thanks, Mumma.”

  The connection broke and Sam was alone again, driving towards a home she now longed for after yet another full-on day. She flicked the radio on, hoping for some musical reprieve. She got it after pressing the pre-selects a couple of times. Freddie Mercury was in the middle of telling the airwaves that he was the great pretender, the melody instantly taking Sam away from the traffic.

  Once Freddie finished, advertisements began to roll, followed by the familiar news bulletin at the top of the hour. The first story was about a presidential holiday currently underway for the Obamas, while the second spoke of an overseas earthquake that had rattled some windows in the Middle East. But it was the third story that brought Sam back to the moment, the newsreader’s tone changing instantly to match the gravity of the situation.

  It was about the latest killing by a serial killer in New York. This was the third victim within a week and the authorities were no closer to catching the culprit. They were now speculating that the killer may be a woman, although nothing had yet been confirmed. Sam pondered the idea of a female serial killer. Could she have been one herself? Possibly. The prospect still frightened her, aware that it hadn’t been the first time the thought had crossed her mind.

  The news bulletin finished with the weather forecast just as Sam pulled into the Aldi carpark. It looked quieter than the previous time she’d been here, with only a dozen or so vehicles scattered around the lot.

  Her legs felt tired and she hoped this would be a quick process. It was just a protein she needed, the rest of her cupboards still substantially filled, thanks to Mumma. Steak was what she’d craved all day and as she entered the store, made a beeline for the meat aisles after grabbing one of the baskets.

  The girl stacking the shelves near the back of the store looked no older than sixteen, her young face mostly hidden by the mop of black curls. She gave Sam a brief smile as she passed, then returned her attention back to the tins of Spam she was stacking. The meat selection wasn’t huge, but when you knew what you wanted, it didn’t need to be.

  After scanning the trays, Sam found what she was looking for, selected the right-sized piece and dropped it into her basket, before passing the girl once more. Crossing the back of the store, she also decided to find a pepper gravy sachet, something she hadn’t tasted in a long time. Once she found the right aisle, Sam began to scan each shelf.

  After a few moments of searching, she heard a faint scuffle from somewhere near the meat section and immediately thought of the girl. Voices began to rise, several sounding more mocking than threatening. As she tightened her grip on the basket’s handle and turned back the way she’d come, Sam already knew what she was about to find. It wasn’t until she saw the group that she suddenly realized she was still in uniform.

  There were four of them, three with their back to Sam, with a fourth leaning against the shelves behind the girl. He was the first to spot her, the smile on his face growing instantly.

  “Fire…on…the…line,” the first called out, annunciating each word as his friends turned to look. He had tattoos all the way down both arms, although from the looks of their quality, Sam knew the artist was probably lacking a proper studio. When each o
f them saw the new arrival, their own grins widened, Sam quickly turning into their new amusement.

  “You OK?” Sam asked the girl, still nervously trying to do her job as two of the men stepped forward.

  “She’s OK,” one of the front ones said, the back one putting an arm around the girl’s shoulders.

  “Whatcha doing here all alone, Miss CO lady?” The oldest-looking one had a menacing grin, his top teeth made up of brightly-polished gold. He looked older than Sam, maybe pushing thirty.

  “Guys, maybe it’s time to go.”

  “Go?” Gold Teeth cried out. ‘Why the fuck would we go?”

  “Because you’ve been asked not to come back here,” a new voice called from somewhere behind and Sam turned to see two cops walking towards them. One of them had his hand on the butt of his firearm, the other one with his hands on his hips.

  The men’s demeanor instantly changed, the fight all but disappearing. Each of them eye-balled Sam as they walked past her, but she held her head high, unfazed by the poor attempt at intimidation. Once they were gone, she went to the girl.

  “You OK?”

  “Yes, she’s OK,” the officer said. “I told you before, Ruby. Call me the second those guys turn up.” He shook his head, then turned back to where his partner remained. Sam watched as they followed the thugs outside. Once they were gone, she turned back to the girl.

  “You sure you’re OK? That cop didn’t seem too worried.”

  “That’s my father.”

  “That cop is your dad?” Sam asked, surprised.

  “Yeah, why? Is that weird?”

  “Maybe not. Just surprising considering how he spoke to you.”

  “Yeah, well, I live with my mum. Hey, thanks for stepping in. That one with the teeth used to be my boyfriend. He’s not such a bad guy.”

  “How old are you?” Sam asked, shocked by the admission.

  “Almost nineteen.” Sam tried to detect a hint of lie but couldn’t.

  “Listen, Ruby? They’re not the kind of boys you should be hanging around with.”

  “I tried to break up with him, but he keeps harassing me.”

  “Ruby?” Sam turned to see a man dressed in a shirt and tie.

  “Yes, Mr Peterson?”

  “Could you leave those and jump on register 4, please?”

  “Right away.” Ruby offered Sam a brief smile, then hurried towards the front of the store. The man gave Sam a quick up and down, before following Ruby and leaving her alone once more.

  Once back in the car, Sam switched the radio off and drove the five minutes back to her apartment in silence. Her mind was a muddle of faces, names and emotions. She felt lost, out of place and above all, defenseless. This entire episode was beginning to affect her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. Tim was locked up, her teammates were hundreds of miles away and she was undercover, alone in a place as foreign to her as a completely new country.

  She parked the car, jumped out and took the stairs to her apartment two at a time. Once she was inside, Sam dropped her grocery bag on the counter and sprinted for the bedroom, diving for her bed once inside the door. With her face pressed against the pillow, she screamed as hard as she could, continuing until the fire tore through her throat.

  After pulling the pillow away, Sam did a check, felt inside herself and repeated the process, a second scream almost rupturing her vocal cords. It felt good and she could feel the anxiety and tension leave her body.

  Back in the kitchen, Sam prepared her steak while listening to more of Freddie Mercury’s anthology. The Great Pretender had only served to whet her appetite and playing him at full volume began to work the magic she needed. Queen had a way of taking her mind away and whenever Sam played the old hits, she would always need to hear them as loud as possible.

  It wasn’t until later that night that Sam thought back to the note Tim had gotten to her. It was the part about the escape that kept playing in her mind. Someone wanted to help Trevor Thompson break out, to help the man escape his prison cell and return to the outside world.

  The television was on, but whatever was playing before her failed to register, her mind back at Bolton. It was the thought that an officer would betray their oath to the job and…

  That was when something struck her as odd. What if the move to another unit wasn’t for snitching, but instead, a preparation for the actual escape? Her mind raced, curious thoughts of a man somehow scaling the fence or climbing through a tunnel someone had dug beneath the walls. Could it be possible?

  That was when she decided to take some affirmative action. Sitting in the confines of her temporary apartment wan’t going to help anyone. What she needed was to get shit happening, and quickly. Without any real plan, Sam grabbed her uniform and threw it into a bag beside a pair of binoculars. She headed to the kitchen, grabbed a bag of crisps, a couple of candy bars and a large bottle of water, dropping them all into another bag.

  With her stash of goodies ready, Sam grabbed her cell, keys and almost ran from the apartment. The time was just past eleven and although this whole trip may be for nothing, it felt good to be doing something at the very least. Anything would feel better than just sitting around her apartment.

  The drive back to the prison was a lot quicker, with the streets virtually deserted. But rather than stop in the main carpark, Sam instead headed for a track she knew that circled the hills on the rear side of the prison. She doubted that any escape attempt would involve the front of the prison and thus parked at a spot where she had an almost clear view of three sides. The lighting around the inside walls was as bright as a sports arena, thus giving her a perfect vantage point.

  Although she had to drive the final few hundred yards with her headlights off, the night had a half moon, bright enough to give Sam a vague idea of direction. Once she was parked and the engine was switched off, she sank momentarily back into her seat and wondered how she’d gone from sitting on the couch in her apartment, to the current spy post, in just a matter of ten minutes.

  The night was silent where she sat, as was the prison. Most of the night-shift officers would be pretending to watch television in the main staff room, although most would be fast asleep. A number of units were manned throughout the night, with officers assigned to each for specific duties.

  For the outside perimeter security, a vehicle patrol was required to be performed by assigned officers on three random occasion throughout the night. But Sam learnt early on that a lot of correctional officers liked to find shortcuts, especially when no-one was watching. The so-called “random patrols” were conducted at 2350, 0010 and again at 0300. That meant the officers would go out for their pre-midnight round and remain outside for their post-midnight round at the same time.

  Sam checked her watch and counted down the minutes to where she would spot the familiar headlights almost on cue. At precisely 2352, they appeared, slowly making their way around an outer-wall track, before carefully doing a u-turn and heading back the other way. A few minutes later they disappeared around the corner of the wall.

  It was almost five full minutes before the headlights reappeared at the other end of the prison, this time making their way around the right-hand side. Sam watched with interest, wondering how random patrols at a facility classed maximum-security, could be so lacking.

  The vehicle continued to circle the facility until Sam predicted its disappearance. As if hearing her words, the vehicle disappeared around the front again and just never re-emerged, leaving her alone once more.

  Once she was sure the evening’s planned entertainment was temporarily finished, she grabbed her cell and phoned Mumma. The woman never seemed to sleep, again answering on the very first ring.

  “Can’t sleep, Hun?”

  “I’m out the back of the prison,” Sam said almost absently.

  “You on lookout duty?”

  “Something like that. Just a hunch. If you’re not busy, do you think you could help me watch some of the cameras?”

  “Su
re. What are we looking for?” The tapping on her keyboard came through.

  “I think maybe someone is preparing to break Trevor Thompson out,” Sam said.

  “Tonight?” Mumma asked, surprised.

  “Maybe. Or maybe tomorrow night. But something tells me maybe his move to the new unit wasn’t for snitching. Maybe it was for preparation.”

  “You think whoever had him moved is now waiting to somehow walk him out?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just…” Sam paused as a new set of headlights came into view.

  “Hun?” Mumma asked.

  Sam gazed down at the new vehicle, positive it wasn’t the one used for patrols. The headlights looked different and somehow larger.

  “Hun?” Mumma repeated.

  “Do you have access to the East wall?” Sam suddenly asked.

  “One sec.” After a few clicks and taps, her voice returned. “Barely. There’s a camera on the South wall corner pointed up, but it doesn’t reach all the way.” More tapping. “Stupid pieces of crap,” Mumma hissed. “Why would anyone put non-controllable cameras on a prison wall?”

  Sam watched as the vehicle continued making its way along the edge of the wall, then slowed near the only other access point to the prison’s interior. It was the back-up Sally-port, used in case of emergency. The powered roller-door slowly wound up, the light from inside temporarily illuminating the huge Chevy pick-up.

  She couldn’t make out the occupant of the vehicle as it slowly rolled inside, disappearing from view in the blink of an eye. It entered the Sally-port one second and the next it was gone

  “Did you see that?” Sam asked.

  “Just the lights. One sec, I’ll check the rest of the cameras.” She disappeared again, Sam continuing to listen to the woman tap away on her keyboard.