Maximum Security

by Robert Muchamore

  ‘And the doors here are the same?’

  James nodded. ‘Exactly the same. And the thing is, the guards get so sick of the alarms, they assume every one is false.’

  Curtis nodded. ‘That hack didn’t even look over the rail to see if someone was waiting on the other side.’

  ‘Within a minute of taking out the guard, we can be up on the rail and tooled up with stun grenades and pepper spray.’

  ‘And from there?’

  ‘You’ve seen how few staff there are on duty at night,’ James said. ‘If we rip off the hacks’ security passes and put on their uniform, I reckon we can bluff our way out of the front gate before the alarm goes off.’

  ‘Definitely tonight?’

  James nodded. ‘As long as I get a chance to speak with my sister. Let’s hit the yard.’

  There’d been a knife fight between two rival gangs the previous morning. Everyone had been sent back to their cells and locked down for the rest of the day. As James and Curtis lined up to pass through the metal detector, all the other inmates seemed tense, like something bad could flare up at any second.

  As they closed on their regular spot by the chin-up bars, James spotted a kid balled up on the ground sniffling. Elwood had just slapped him around in front of a dozen laughing skinheads.

  ‘James,’ Elwood said, pointing down at the ball. ‘Wanna finish him off?’

  ‘I’m good,’ James said, waving his hand in front of his face.

  The victim was Mark, the friendly kid with the black eye who’d slept next to James on the first night. Mark had no relatives on the outside to pay in commissary money. This ruled out extortion, but didn’t stop Elwood beating him up for fun.

  ‘Boot him,’ Elwood snarled. ‘You’re such a pussy, James.’

  James spun quickly and kicked Mark up the arse. He knew this would amuse the crowd, without hurting his victim too badly. The skinheads roared as Mark rolled over in the dirt. James pulled down the front of his shorts.

  ‘Now get out of here before I piss over you,’ he snarled.

  Mark scowled back at James, as he scrambled to his feet and limped off.

  ‘Why’d you let him go?’ Elwood asked angrily.

  James shrugged. He kept trying to find ways to minimise the daily violence without appearing soft, but he knew that the more time he spent with psychos like Elwood, the more chance there was he’d end up involved in an incident where someone got badly beaten, or stabbed.

  ‘So,’ James said, desperate to change the subject. ‘Is there a riot going down, or not?’

  The prospect had been hotly debated in the cell overnight. Whenever there was serious violence, the hacks closed the yard and locked everyone in the cells. But locking inmates down for long stretches only fermented the anger.

  ‘I love riots,’ Kirch said, making a rare excursion into the world of speech.

  ‘Yeah,’ Elwood said. ‘You should have seen the last one, James. There were baton rounds whizzing across this yard from every direction. Poom, poom, poom. I was one of the last to make it back to the cell and dudes were laid up everywhere: either stabbed, or shot up.’

  Kirch looked at the sky with a smile across his face. ‘Happy days,’ he nodded. ‘Easily worth a month of lockdown.’

  James sat down in the dirt. After a week of Kirch and Elwood’s bullying and bragging, he could happily have laid them out in return for five minutes’ peace.

  ‘The riot was the scariest hour of my life,’ Curtis whispered, leaning into James’ ear. ‘I thought I was gonna die. Elwood hid under one of the shelters. He was as scared as I was.’

  James smiled. ‘What about Kirch?’

  ‘Kirch really is a psycho. I think he loved every minute.’

  ‘We’ve gotta get out of here,’ James said, shaking his head. ‘This place is doing my brain in.’

  *

  If the cellblock was put back in lockdown, visitation would be cancelled. James wouldn’t get to see Lauren and the escape would be off. As the morning wore on, James got increasingly nervous. There was a fight inside the canteen when the first batch of lunches was being served. It was shut down while the mess was cleared up inside and a rumour flashed around the yard that it wouldn’t reopen. A sullen crowd, most of whom had missed their main meal because of the lockdown the day before, gathered around the prefabricated building looking for trouble.

  Superintendent Frey prowled on the roof, watching the commotion through binoculars. James anxiously studied his body language for any sign that the cellblock was going back into lockdown, but the canteen re-opened and the backlog of prisoners gradually got served.

  When it was time, James enthusiastically walked to the reception room at the front of the cellblock. Before entering the visitors’ area, he had to strip naked and put his clothes in a cardboard box. After a body search, he buttoned on a pocketless yellow overall that nobody had ever thought to wash.

  The visiting room had tables for six inmates, but Lauren and a wiry FBI agent James had never seen before were the only ones in the room. James walked barefoot across the tacky floor and sat opposite them. Lauren leaned forward and gave her brother a hug.

  ‘What happened to your head?’ Lauren gasped, looking at the five-day growth of stubble.

  ‘You hang with skinheads, you gotta look like one,’ James grinned. ‘If I don’t get out of here soon, I might end up with a tattoo.’

  ‘Prison tattoos are very dangerous,’ the FBI man said stiffly, in the poshest American accent James had ever heard. ‘The needle penetrating the skin is unlikely to be sterile. You’d risk being contaminated with any number of infectious diseases including hepatitis and AIDS.’

  ‘I read my briefings,’ James whispered. ‘I take it you’re my new uncle John.’

  ‘Theodore Monroe,’ the stick man nodded as he shook James’ hand, ‘but everyone calls me Theo. I’m afraid John Jones was compromised when Curtis saw him in the education block. Scott Warren already works here and Marvin … Well, it would obviously be inappropriate to send an African American undercover pretending to be your uncle.’

  James smiled. ‘So are we expecting company in here?’

  ‘Scott organised the visiting roster so that it only contained inmates who never get visitors,’ Theo explained.

  ‘Are we being bugged?’

  Theo shook his head. ‘There is recording equipment in this room, but they need permission from a judge to switch it on. We have to get it every time Curtis’ supposed uncles turn up.’

  ‘You know that note you passed to Scott Warren about the psychiatrist in Philadelphia?’ Lauren asked excitedly. ‘The FBI followed up your lead and found a picture of Jane Oxford.’

  ‘At least we think it’s her,’ Theo interrupted, reaching inside his impeccably tailored suit and pulling out a blurry colour photo.

  James stared at the face of an ordinary looking middle-aged woman, wearing large rectangular glasses. The boy standing at her side was clearly Curtis.

  ‘It’s a video surveillance picture from the first class check-in counter at Philadelphia International Airport, a couple of weeks before Curtis was sent to the military school. Interestingly enough, the psychiatrist Curtis visited turned out to be on the board of directors at the military school.’

  James laughed. ‘Curtis said psychiatrists are a bunch of crooks. I bet he earned a nice bonus for every poor kid he sent there.’

  ‘The FBI have also traced multiple transactions on the credit cards Jane Oxford used to book the flights. All in all, it’s a commendable piece of intelligence work. John Jones and Marvin Teller told me to pass on their heartiest congratulations.’

  James couldn’t imagine the phrase heartiest congratulations ever passing the lips of John Jones or Marvin Teller, but he got the point.

  ‘So, does any of this actually get us anywhere?’ James asked.

  ‘Perhaps,’ the FBI man said, as he swept invisible crumbs from his jacket with his spindly fingers. ‘Even if your escape attempt fails
, this photograph represents a significant breakthrough.’

  ‘What about the escape?’ James asked. ‘We’d better still be on for tonight. I can’t handle it here much longer. I was scared about what might happen to me at first. Now I’m more worried about what I might be forced into doing to someone else. Things are on a short fuse out on the yard right now.’

  ‘There’s no hold-up at our end,’ Theo nodded. ‘There will be three staff on duty in your cellblock tonight. Scott Warren, of course, the female guard Amanda Voss and lastly a man named Golding, who will be working at the cellblock control console. You have to be exceedingly cautious around the control room. Golding will be within reach of an emergency alarm that can instantly deactivate every door in the prison, even for those with swipe cards.

  ‘When you get out of the cellblock and reach the staff lounge, you’re unlikely to bump into a member of staff. I’m led to believe that the conditions are rather insalubrious. It’s not the kind of place where you’d want to spend time hanging around after your shift.

  ‘Apart from Warren, the only other person who will be on duty inside the prison and who knows about the escape attempt is a man named Shorter. He works inside the central prison control room and operates the staff exit door. As you know, Dave has certain physical similarities to Scott Warren and the original plan was for him to show his face to the security camera when you passed through the main gate. Unfortunately, neither yourself nor Curtis are big enough to easily pass as an adult male, so we’ve brought in Shorter as an insurance policy. He’s been an employee of the Arizona Prison Department for nearly forty years, and we expect the inquiry into your escape to make him the scapegoat. Shorter understands this, but the FBI has agreed to offer to pay for his early retirement, in return for cooperation.’

  ‘So that should get us out of the front door,’ James said. ‘What next?’

  ‘You meet up with Lauren, as per the plan. It is of considerable importance that you move quickly. Arizona is sparsely populated and there are not many roads in and out of the state. You can expect police roadblocks to be set up on all the major roads near to the prison within half an hour of the escape being detected.’

  ‘I’ve already tuned the car radio to a local news station,’ Lauren said. ‘So we’ll know as soon as the alert goes out.’

  ‘Assuming you make it away from the prison, we’re then relying on Curtis to find the way back to his mother,’ Theo explained. ‘We recorded the conversation during Curtis’ visit on Saturday and he made no mention of the escape. Do you have any idea where you’ll be going?’

  ‘I told Curtis we should go into a heavily populated area to minimise our chances of being recaptured,’ James said. ‘Curtis says he knows people who used to work for his mum in Los Angeles, so that’s where we’re heading. He didn’t mention the escape to his visitors because he knows this room is bugged. Don’t forget, Curtis has spent his whole life on the run. He might only be fourteen, but he probably knows more about police and FBI operations than most major criminals.’

  ‘That’s a valid point,’ Theo nodded. ‘So is his plan clear? Has Curtis mentioned where any of these connections live, or how they came to do business with his mother?’

  ‘I get the impression they’re bikers,’ James said. ‘Or ex-bikers. The idea is that we get out of Arizona as fast as we can. When we reach LA, we find a phone booth and start making calls.’

  They spoke for a few more minutes about the finer points of the escape plan, before the FBI man wished James luck and headed for the door. James gave Lauren another hug.

  ‘Play it safe,’ Lauren said. ‘Don’t go getting yourself killed tonight.’

  22. DOORS

  Scott Warren took the 2:30 a.m. count. Unlike a standing count, when inmates stood to attention at the end of their beds, this one only required Scott to lean over the gantry and count heads. He’d only wake the inmates up if he couldn’t see someone.

  When he was done, Scott clanked along the metal gantry to the control room. If things went as planned, the escape wouldn’t be noticed until the next count was due in four hours.

  Scott reached the control room at the centre of the H-shaped cellblock and tore a form off his clipboard. He handed it to the chunky figure of Golding, who sat at a three-metre-long console covered in switches, surveillance monitors and lights.

  Golding stared at the sheet as Amanda Voss came towards him and handed him another.

  ‘No escapes, boss,’ the petite twenty-three-year-old grinned.

  Golding picked up a telephone and called the central control room. ‘Hey Keith, this is cellblock T for trouble. I’m calling in a count of two-fifty-seven inmates at two-thirty-seven in the a.m. Situation here is all normal.’

  Warren rolled his chair back so he could put his feet up on the console and picked up a newspaper. As he did this, a buzzer sounded, accompanied by a flashing red light.

  Golding angrily flung down his newspaper. ‘Those freakin’ doors … Cell T4, side entrance B. One of you go and shut that thing up.’

  ‘I gotta take a dump,’ Scott said guiltily, looking towards the toilet. ‘Can you deal with it, Amanda?’

  *

  Good people sometimes get hurt when you’re trying to catch bad ones. When the door began to slide, James’ conscience tripped over the idea of laying out a girl; but the mission depended on him holding his nerve.

  His fist smacked Amanda in the temple, with enough force to knock the opposite side of her head against the edge of the metal door. There’s no such thing as a good head injury, but a clean shot to the thinnest part of the skull was unlikely to leave Amanda with anything more than a mild concussion and a two-day headache.

  James dragged Amanda’s unconscious body backwards and lowered her to the floor at the bottom of the spiral staircase.

  ‘Come on,’ James whispered anxiously to Curtis. He wanted the door closed before any other inmates spotted the opening and decided to come with them.

  Curtis stepped through and slid the door shut, as James put on Amanda’s ADOP baseball cap, then unbuttoned her black shirt and pulled it on. Combined with his black trainers and a pair of Curtis’ black tracksuit bottoms, James could pass as a prison officer provided nobody looked too hard.

  ‘Tie her up before she comes to,’ James ordered. ‘Ankles and mouth gag, then tie her hands around the stair rail. Use the constrictor knot, like I showed you.’

  Curtis had a couple of James’ plaited ropes slung over his shoulder. While he tied up Amanda, James swiftly ran up the spiral stairs and crept across the rail to the weapons rack. He grabbed a can of pepper spray and tucked a stun grenade into his pocket as Scott came through the door. James looked behind to make sure Curtis was still out of earshot.

  ‘You OK?’ James asked.

  Scott nodded. ‘Go for my nose and make it look real bloody. Be careful around Golding, he was a football player at high school. Use the handcuffs in the blue storage cupboard behind the console.’

  James stepped back into a fighting stance and thrust his palm at the base of Scott’s nose. Blood trickled over Scott’s lips as he laid himself down on the metal floor. James ripped the safety pin from a can of pepper spray. He shot a quick blast into Scott’s hair and face, then quickly crammed a piece of balled-up rag into his mouth.

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ James whispered, as he rolled Scott on to his chest and began tying his wrists.

  Curtis was coming up the spiral stairs a little too noisily for James’ taste. Scott went limp, as though James had knocked him out.

  ‘Ssssshh,’ James said. ‘Is she well tied?’

  Curtis nodded. ‘Just how you showed me.’

  ‘Did you get her ID badge and swipe card?’

  ‘Course,’ Curtis whispered, grinning as he looked down over the rail. ‘I never thought I’d see the view from up here.’

  James unhooked an electric shock device from Scott’s belt and stripped everything out of his pockets, including his keys and wallet, before shu
ffling down to tie his ankles. He threw Curtis the bunch of keys.

  ‘One of those works the gun locker,’ James explained.

  Curtis opened the clear plastic front of the cabinet, while James bent Scott’s legs up and began tying the bindings on his wrists to the bindings on his ankles.

  Curtis took one of the large baton-round guns. ‘Looks complicated,’ he said.

  ‘Help me move him, then I’ll show you.’

  They pushed Scott’s body to the inside of the gantry, so that the inmates below couldn’t see him. James grabbed a small cylinder of compressed gas from the locker and snatched the gun from Curtis.

  ‘I watched the hacks do this the other day,’ James explained. ‘Screw the gas cylinder on the top of the gun, like so. Turn the valve, then you break her open and … Give us a baton round.’

  Curtis handed James one of the fat plastic slugs. James slid it into the barrel, closed the gun and handed it to Curtis.

  ‘Only fire if we have to,’ James said. ‘You know how noisy they are.’

  Curtis shoved more pepper spray, stun grenades and rounds for the baton guns into his pockets while James armed another gun for himself.

  James opened the door at the end of the gantry. The short corridor led to the control room. James kept his back to the wall as they crept forward with their guns poised.

  When James reached the end, he poked his head into the control room and eyeballed Golding; who sat with his feet on the console reading the sports page. It was eerily silent, apart from the hum of the air conditioning.

  ‘We’ve got to distract him from the console or he’ll hit the alarm,’ James whispered.

  Curtis nodded, as James crouched down and pulled out one of Scott’s coins. He rolled the coin out into the room. Golding heard it drop in the middle of the floor and looked over the top of his newspaper.

  ‘You’ve dropped a quarter down here, Scott,’ Golding said. He stared for a few seconds, before shrugging and going back to his newspaper.