by Stan Mason
Sky alighted from the car, walked up to the front door of the farmhouse and knocked on the door. waiting for someone to answer her call. The farmer’s wife came to the door and the television news presenter concocted a story that her car had broken down so that she could stay there until the police gave up searching for her. The farmer’s wife gave her the telephone number of the local garage and Sky pretended to call them but she dialled a completely different number, faking the message about her vehicle. The farmer’s wife proved to be very hospitable, providing a miscellany of refreshments as Sky told her about her work for the television studios in Manchester. The woman was enthralled to meet a minor celebrity even though she didn’t have a television and she made her visitor lunch accompanied by numerous cups of tea during the day.
After some hours had passed, Sky returned to her vehicle and drove off in a south-easterly direction. It was important for her to keep to the country roads which she did until leaving Cumberland. By this strategy, she avoided being stopped and questioned by the police. The fact that they had taken down the registration number of her car didn’t concern her for she had done nothing wrong... nothing at all! However there was the element of a stain on her character and she had to do something to rectify the situation.
When she arrived in Manchester, she parked her car in a remote part of the city, hailing a taxi to take her back to the television studio. Once back in her office, she rang the police stating that her car had been stolen. This would eradicate any allegations that she had been driving the car that was seen by the police in Cumberland. It was a very good ploy to divert attention that she had been to Lancaster jail. She would be entirely in the clear.
After contacting the police with her false story, she sat back in her chair and rang the local Member of Parliament, Jonathan Hines.
‘Mr. Hines,’ she began confidently. ‘Do you realise that your Government is carrying out an illegal act which would be condemned by the European Court of Human Rights and you, as a member of the Government, would be liable under the law of vicarious liability.’
‘And what might that illegal act be, Miss Summers,’ he returned calmly, having had many conversations with the television reporter in the past, some of which were quite contentious.
‘The practice of changing bodies of prisoners with eminent people in sport, business, the arts... oh yes, and politicians!’ she rattled with an element of glee in her voice.
‘What are you talking about?’ he asked with some concern because the television reporter was usually right on the mark.
‘Come off it, Jonathan!’ snapped Sky rudely. ‘Don’t tell me you’re not in the loop! I’ve just been to Lancaster jail to watch prisoners from Holloway having their bodies transferred to old people. I’ve got it on camera. What the hell’s going on?’
There was a long pause at the other end of the line. Either Hines knew all about the process and was thinking up an excuse or he was entirely ignorant of what was going on.
‘Are you serious or is this some kind of a wind-up?’ he challenged. ‘Are you telling me the truth?’
It was quite clear that he knew nothing about it.
‘Of course I’m telling you the truth. Would I make up something so weird? I’ve just witnessed it in practice in Lancaster jail. What do you have to say?’
‘I swear I don’t know anything about it,’ confessed the politician. Let me follow it up and I’ll come back to you.’
‘I hope you do,’ returned Sky with rancour in her voice. ‘You never do normally.’
‘I will this time,’ he promised. ‘You can bet on it. Leave it with me!’
The line went dead and a smile appeared on Sky’s face. She would have the rabbits running scared all over the place now that she had proof. It was an hour later before her telephone rang again and Jeremy Ratcliffe, the Minister, of Science, came on the line.
‘Miss Summers,’ he began in his usual suave manner. ‘I understand you have information of a certain kind that might jeopardise the Government in one of its projects.’
‘I take that as gobbledygook for exchanging prisoners’ bodies with that of old people,’ she told him directly.
‘As you wish,’ he retorted calmly. ‘I suggest we meet to discuss the matter in depth. Would you come to my office in Whitehall?’
‘And put my head into the lion’s mouth,’ she spat. ‘I hardly think so. You do realise I’m in Manchester.’
‘I’ll compromise,’ stated the politician. ‘How about the Devil’s Lunchbox café in Colmore Circus in Birmingham. That’s about half way from London to Manchester. It’s close to Snow Hill station if you want to travel by train.’
‘When and what time?’ asked Sky sharply.
‘Let’s say tomorrow at eleven-thirty in the morning,’ came the swift reply.
‘You’re on Minister, but I warn you. You’d better have a lot of answers for my questions. I’m not going to take any prisoners if you get the pun!’
Ratcliffe ended the conversation abruptly trying to think of ways by which he could avoid a direct confrontation with the television reporter. He realised that it would be far more difficult to dispose of her than Dr. Da Silva, the pathologist and Father O’Brien, the priest. However, on this occasion, it was imperative that Sky Summers was silenced once and for all. Jonathan Hines had told him that she had evidence on her camera of the exchange process. She may have been bluffing but, if she did have them, they had to be destroyed post-haste. It was an aim he intended to achieve!
***
The following day, Sky took the train from Manchester to Snow Hill station in Birmingham and made her way to the Devil’s Lunchbox café. She glanced at her wristwatch to check the time, pausing outside the café thoughtfully. It was most fortunate that her handbag slipped from her grasp at that moment for, as she bent down to pick it up, a bullet thudded into the brickwork at the point where her head had been a second earlier. She looked up to stare at the small hole for a moment, realising that a sniper was arming at her, and ran swiftly into the café in terror. She sat at a table with a dozen thoughts racing through her mind. This story had to be really big for the Government to have to resort to such austere methods... to eliminate her by shooting her in a busy street. If it had not been that her handbag had slipped from her grasp at that particular moment, she would have been carried away in a body-bag by paramedics It was too gruesome a situation to contemplate!
She looked around at anyone who came into the café and moved to a table at the rear, well away from the window. It would be stupid to offer the sniper a second chance. She waited for Ratcliffe to turn up but it soon became clear that he expected her to be murdered, therefore he had no intention of coming. With fury raging within her, she left the café by the back door, hiding behind a newspaper kiosk when she arrived at the nearby railways station, looking furtively around at the other passengers waiting there and all around the area in case someone was staring at her through a rifle sight. When she reached the television studio in Manchester, she went directly to her superior, Calvin Marriott, The story was now too much of a risk for her to handle alone.
‘Calvin,’ she began. ‘I’ve come across a real beauty. It’s a story that will blow your mind and destroy the Government out of the country.’
He sat back in his comfortable executive chair behind a plush desk which was clear with the exception of two trays... one for ‘In’ and the other for ‘Out. ‘One that will blow my mind, eh? Well I’m all ears. Tell me about it.’
Sky related the story to date about all that she had seen and what had happened to her. Marriott placed his arms behind his head as he digested the essence of the tale.
‘Show me the photographs!’ he ordered gently, with an element of disbelief in his voice. He had been employed by the television studio for over ten years and he had televised a number of very strange stories and incidents. Howe
ver this one took the first prize for oddity.
She removed the camera from her pocket and passed it over the desk to him. He pressed the appropriate keys on the apparatus to view the photographs and pursed him lips firmly. Then he looked up at the television reporter with a sombre expression on his face.
‘The Government’s exchanging the bodies of prisoners who were given life sentences,’ he muttered as though speaking to himself. ‘They exchanging them with people of all walks fo life who are very much older.’
‘You can see what they’re doing. They’re giving eminent people the chance to live thirty or forty years more but the stress of the exchange is such that thirty per cent of the prisoners died shortly after it took place. Almost certainly is that one of the characteristics is that the stress is so great they die of heart attacks or strokes.
‘Is this for real?’ asked her superior with an element of suspicion. He checked in his mind that it wasn’t April Fool’s Day.
‘You bet your life it’s real,’ snapped Sky. ‘Lancaster jail, which had five hundred prisoners on life sentences is now down to one hundred. Doesn’t that ring a bell? There’s a marquee inside the prison in which the equipment’s been installed and they’re currently exchanging bodies of women prisoners from Holloway jail with other old women who choose to live much longer.
Marriott considered the matter for a few moments before responding. ‘Give me five minutes,’ he told her bluntly. ‘I’m going to contact Jeremy Ratcliffe to find out what he’s playing at. I’ll buzz you shortly.’
She left the room and returned to her desk patiently but it was almost fifteen minutes before Marriott rang for her. She went back to his office and sat on a chair facing him.
‘Here’s your camera,’ he said slowly, passing it back to her over the desk. ‘Don’t bother to check it. I’ve destroyed the photographs.’
‘You’ve what!’ she uttered in disbelief.
‘I pressed the wrong key and lost the lot’ he admitted, although she knew that it was a lie. ‘I’m sorry. It was an accident.’
‘You’re a liar!’ she accused point-blank. ‘You deliberately deleted them! You’ve thrown your lot in with the Government!’
He stared directly into her eyes before replying. ‘Yes, I have,’ he said plainly. ‘The reason is that the Government has issued a D-notice to the Press and the media on the subject . No newspaper or television programme is allowed to publish or screen anything related to the exchange programme. In addition, the threats I received from the Minister of Science are too dire to ignore.’
‘I’ve never known a Government to be so ruthless,’ she retorted. ‘They already tried to kill me today.’ She was becoming angrier by the second. ‘If it wasn’t for the fact that I dropped my handbag and bent down to pick it up, I would have been shot dead by a sniper’s bullet.’ She paused to reflect the situation. ‘This story is bigger than either of us could ever imagine.’
‘You can say that again,’ he muttered ruefully, ‘but we don’t have the option of presenting it to the public. In any case, I’ve been informed that the programme’s due to end shortly. Apparently they’ve run out of long-term prisoners to exchange and the Government doesn’t want to take it any further at this point in time. They say it will continue in a diminished capacity but there’s now a ‘Waiting List’ for people who want to participate.‘
‘The Government doesn’t want to take it any further,‘ repeated Sky slowly. ‘Do they really mean that?’
‘I’m sorry,’ commented her superior glumly. ‘My hands are tied. There’s nothing I can do.’
The television reporter screwed up her face in annoyance. ‘Damn!’ she uttered miserably in a moment of self-pity. ‘It was such a good news item... but not one worthy of losing your life.’
‘You can say that again!’ repeated Marriott sagely. ‘I suggest that you drop this item and look for another story, Sky,’ he recommended trying to be helpful. ‘One with much less risk.’
She left the office reluctant to let the news item go. Marriott had caved in to the Government and she didn’t believe that a D-notice had been issued. It was only when stories were going to Press or about to appear on television that the Government exercised that power; However, on this occasion, nothing had been prepared by the newspapers or the television authorities so why should they consider issuing a D-notice? She sat upright in front of her computer her fingers running away on the keyboard with her mind going in all directions.
‘Here’s some breaking news,’ she typed quickly beginning the article. ‘The Government has embarked on a technical programme by which means they can exchange the bodies of prisoners in jail serving life sentences with those of selected aged senior citizens. It transpires that eminent people in various walks of life can continue their earlier careers for decades to come, even though they are, in reality, elderly because they have exchanged their bodies with younger people. On the other side of the coin, prisoners who have been exchanged can expect to live much shortened lives. It is understood that an appeal will be registered with the European Court of Human Rights to prevent the Government from carrying out this heinous operation. So far, the best part of a thousand prisoners have had their bodies exchanged... thirty per cent of which have died through the stress invoked in the procedure through cardiac arrest and strokes. ‘
She stopped at that point to read the text, amending two small typing errors, and dwelt on the idea of presenting it to the public. It was only then that she was struck with another trend of thought... the reason for the secrecy! It was clear that the Government wanted to carry out the project without anyone knowing about it. The real reason was to prevent pandemonium from breaking out in the public domain. As soon as any details of the programme were released, millions of old people would apply to the Government demanding, as a right, to have their old bodies exchanged for someone much younger. There would be many demonstrations by senior citizens making their claim to youthfulness, fights would break out with the police, and there would be riots in major cities. Every old person would want a piece of the action! The British people were normally very phlegmatic in their attitude. However the prospect of eternal youth, or at least life for a further forty years, was highly likely to stimulate older people into some kind of reaction. There would be chaos in Britain which was likely to spread to other developed countries throughout the world creating even more serious problems. Who would be willing to give up their younger body for an older one? That was the question! Certainly it would no longer be prisoners serving life sentences in jails... to their detriment they would have all been used up. So what about mental hospitals and sanatoriums? The people there often had excellent bodies despite suffering from traumatic unsound minds. Maybe there were people who wanted to die and made themselves available for the exchange process... or perhaps homeless people wanting to spend a few years in relative comfort if they were paid for the operation. There were also people badly injured in car crashes whose bodies were intact but they had suffered brain damage. In a world where there was nothing stranger than folk, some people would sell their souls to the Devil, as well as their bodies, for a mere pittance.
The matter soon became quite clear in her mind. She now realised that it would be impossible to relay the news to viewers on television. All her guile and hard work getting into Lancaster jail had been in vain. Her face took on a wry grin as she thought of herself in the uniform of the women in Holloway prison, throwing her small tape-recorder to the other side of the area outside the marquee to distract the attention of the guard. She wondered how George Griffin fared when he informed his superior that his cap and jacket had been stolen but then all the prisoners had been accounted for so everything must have ended in good order. She was extremely sad that the news story had come to an end without any result in her favour. The Government had told her superior that the programme was ending. She hoped that they were telling the tr
uth... although she never trusted politicians, Ministers, or the Government. Despite their allegiance to the Crown and their role, in which they promised to protect the public at all times, they were regularly undertaking measures, or making decisions, which tended to work against their goodwill towards the people. Exchanging the bodies of elderly people for younger ones was yet another of them!
***
Early on the following morning, Preston left his quarters to go to his office to check whether any fax message had been sent to him explaining what was to happen at the prison. To his astonishment, the fax machine lay idle. He was still in the dark with regard to his future role. His problem was exacerbated by the fact that there were no more prisoners left at the jail. Those who survived had all been exchanged and transferred to different prisons. Equally, no more were being sent to Lancaster jail from other penitentiaries... the supply had run out! He believe that all the scientists and guards had either left to go to their homes or they had gone back to their hotels awaiting further information as to what they should do next. Preston, himself, had dismissed the warders for they were no longer required. The jail was completely bereft of prisoners... there was no one there to care for any more. The dark grey iron bars of the cells shouted out loudly in the silence. Eight cells contained the bodies of women who had died shortly after the exchange had taken place and arrangements for their disposal were under way. All the dead were completely on their own having been cut off from all family and friends who had disowned them after their trials. They were technically exiled from society and from everyone who ever knew them.
The Governor was terribly disappointed at not receiving any message concerning his future or that of Lancaster jail and he was about to leave his office to go to his quarters when he heard some faint strange noises in the main area of the jail. To his surprise, people were inside the prison dismantling the marquee and removing the cubicles. He went to the main gate which was open to observe two large waiting vehicles. Stopping one of the men who was placing some of the equipment in one of them , he asked him what was going on.