Locked Up

by GB Williams

  Before trying to move again, she mentally assessed her position. Killer headache, probably concussion, but miraculously still sitting. Hands tied, but not cuffed; no cold metal around her wrists, only bunched cotton, knotted hard enough to keep a press of something cold against the sides of her fists. Her wrists were tied to something roughly the level of her head – her forehead had been resting on her forearm. Other aches she recognised as scrapes and bruises, nothing serious. She still had her clothes, something to be grateful for. It meant the wire was still in place. Please God it’s working. The scrapes and bruising were probably the result of rough handling when being moved from the laundry to here. Wherever here was.

  Blinking again, she finally moved her head.

  ‘Oh good, you’re back with us.’

  She recognised the human shape moving towards her from the voice. ‘Winehouse?’

  ‘Yes, sweetie, it’s me.’

  Teddington felt his hand on her arm and tried to move away, but there was nowhere to go, and he clamped his hands around her, yanking her arm up so that she had to rise to her feet. She felt vulnerable being tied to a three-inch thick iron downpipe, but more so because her back was to the main part of the room, and she was aware of others there – she just couldn’t see who. She could barely focus on Winehouse.

  ‘Where the hell are we?’ She looked around, but with restricted sight, she couldn’t make it out.

  ‘Maintenance Room,’ Winehouse provided.

  ‘I don’t hear any motors. Must be Room Three.’ Because it was largely just dead space, and the one furthest from the open room of the wing. She hoped Piper got the message. ‘Out of the way, defensible.’ And accessible from more than just C-Wing.

  His hands had moved off her arm, and were running over her shoulders, her back. An involuntary shudder rippled through her. His hands moved around her middle, and there was nowhere for her to go as he moved up behind her, pressing his front to her back.

  ‘There are contradictory reports about you, Teddy-bare,’ he whispered in her ear, his mouth too close, his breath fetid. ‘Some say you’re letting Bell fuck you at every turn, others say you’re frigid and don’t let anyone touch you. Not even the saintly Sanchez.’

  They were so close, she couldn’t miss he had an erection. Her heart was hammering, fear washed her cold. Her throat was dry. ‘I haven’t had sex with any man since my divorce,’ she admitted. And right now, she was regretting that. She wished she’d had the sense to enjoy her life more. Bell was sexy as all get out, and surprisingly considerate. He’d have been a gentle and, she was sure, a good lover. She should have opened herself to him when she had the chance. Chances were now, she wouldn’t live long enough to even see him again.

  ‘Well, you’re going to today,’ Winehouse promised her. ‘There are plenty of men in here waiting to get their share of your cunt.’ His hand moved down, grabbing her crotch. ‘And I’m going to let them. Payment and favours, you know how this place works.’

  ‘I know how you work,’ she threw back at him. ‘You’re more interested in fucking Bell than I am.’

  ‘Necrophilia isn’t my thing.’

  Necro – No!

  She felt her breath catch in her throat. Charlie dead? She didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to think it.

  Then, she didn’t have time to think, new hands were on her, shaping and squeezing her bottom. Smaller hands, softer hands. A woman’s hands. She jerked away, twisted as best she could to put her back against the wall. Fry looked like a pixelated picture through her hazy vision, but it was no question that it was her.

  ‘Rebecca?’

  ‘Ariadne.’

  She felt Fry’s hands on her breasts. Teddington tried twisting, but that didn’t help. Rebecca moved closer again, and as she pressed her lips against hers, all Teddington could do was clamp her jaw and resist.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?!’ Teddington demanded once Fry broke the contact.

  ‘Checking out the competition.’

  Teddington held her breath and gritted her teeth, as Fry’s fingers dug painfully into her breasts.

  ‘Mine are better.’

  Scowling was as much a function of her inability to focus as the loathing she felt. ‘Good for you.’

  The slap on her thigh had her catching her breath. ‘Be superior, bitch. You’ll still goin’ get gangbanged.’

  Teddington shuddered, as Fry licked up her cheek, from chin to ear, where she sucked on her earlobe before whispering, ‘I almost envy you all the cock you’re going t’ get.’

  Fry finally moved away.

  Sickened at the prospect, Teddington managed to wipe the woman’s spit from her jaw against her shoulder as she hoped Piper was listening because she was going to need a rescue, possibly very soon. She blinked again and looked around, her vision was starting to clear.

  There were six other people in the room. Malkin was sitting on the floor, looked like his hands and feet were tied, Runt stood over him with something in his hand. She assumed it was a shiv. She double-checked it was Runt. Knowing he was Keen’s man, she could only assume he was here as a double agent, at least she hoped he was. He might just protect her. If he wasn’t, she was going to die horribly.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ she demanded of Fry, as the woman draped herself over Winehouse’s shoulder.

  ‘For the thrill.’

  That was a worryingly simple answer.

  ‘The thrill of what? Pissing me off?’

  Fry’s laugh really was unpleasant. ‘Oh, Ariadne, you really aren’t all that important. I enjoy a good fuck, and there’s nothing better for that than a desperate man, and there are plenty of those in here.’

  All Teddington could do was stare at the woman. ‘So, what? The better they do you, the quicker they get out?’

  Fry shrugged and smiled. ‘The really good ones stay in, but then they tend not to mind.’

  Sickened, Teddington turned her head in the other direction and made out Holden standing by Robbins. Holden was a surprise. She hadn’t known he’d aligned himself with either side. Robbins was beside another pipe, like her, so she assumed he was tied up too. Nothing was very clear.

  Swallowing, she focused, as much as she could, on Winehouse. She hated the way Fry was making her feel, watching the rise and fall of her chest too closely. It made her skin crawl. Teddington knew panic wouldn’t help. But, that didn’t mean she wasn’t feeling it. ‘Okay, Winehouse. What’s this really all about?’

  He didn’t move, she wasn’t sure he was going to answer at all. ‘It’s about control, of course,’ he told her. ‘Everything is always about control.’

  ‘What do you want to control, Winehouse?’

  ‘The prison,’ he spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘I’m going to be the only one with power in here. I’m going to control who gets what, and when.’

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘All this, just to oust Keen?’

  Winehouse laughed at that. ‘The old man’s losing his grip, anyway. He’s not got that many years left in him. If a riot proves too much for an old man’s heart, then who’s going to mourn?’

  She knew she would. The idea of losing both Keen and Charlie cut right through her. She had only one hope; the confessions she’d promised Piper. ‘So, you’ve been behind it all, all along. You killed Tommy Walters.’

  He smiled, at least, she thought it was meant to be a smile.

  ‘Not quite.’

  She tried again. ‘You ordered the kill?’

  ‘Of course. How else do you think the dibber could be used?’ He moved over to stand beside her, bending slightly to put his face a hair’s breadth from hers. ‘A dibber you so conveniently took back, and put your fingerprints all over.’

  ‘Who actually did it?’

  ‘I did.’

  She looked over at Robbins. He seemed to be proud of the admission. That fact he’d actually answered her was problematic. But, he wasn’t the one i
n charge. She needed the organ grinder and turned back to Winehouse.

  ‘I’m not getting out of here, am I?’

  He smiled; it was chilling. ‘The only thing in your future is a rough gangbang. What makes you think you’ll want to survive what some of those men have in store for you?’

  Teddington knew she was in trouble, and this wasn’t worth the pay off. Especially not if she didn’t get it all.

  ‘Did you enjoy letting Bell fuck you?’ As he spoke, Winehouse started unbuttoning her blouse.

  She decided not to answer.

  ‘You know, I’m not a bad man. Bell’s death is your fault.’

  She swallowed, as he parted the fabric, revealing the bra Piper had given her. Please, God, don’t let him try to remove that. Instead, he was pulling the shirt from her trousers.

  ‘How …’ She had to lick her lips, before she could finish the question. ‘How is that my fault?’

  ‘He was supposed to be an easy parole. I didn’t see any reason to kill him. I just wanted him out, off the wing. If he’d taken his present, he’d have been in solitary, but you screwed all that up. It was you who signed his death warrant when you brought him back. Turn to face the wall.’

  Terrified of what he would do if she did, as much as she was terrified of what he’d do if she didn’t, she turned. When she heard the snick of a blade being drawn open, she couldn’t help looking around. He had opened a three-inch penknife.

  The cold blade touched the back of her neck, efficiently slicing through the shirt collar. The sawing action pushed the tip repeatedly into her skin. She angled her head forward to avoid the worst, but she could feel she was being cut. Only small nicks, but enough to bleed and sting. And worse was on the way. She felt sick. Once the collar gave, there was a short catch for the shoulder yoke seam, then the material was shredded from her body till the useless sleeves just hung at her wrists. She desperately tried to concentrate.

  ‘Did you enjoy it?’

  ‘Stripping you?’ he asked, as his hands went around her waist. She reared, though she had nowhere to go, as he grabbed her crotch again.

  ‘Killing Bell?’ she grit her teeth, as he rubbed her. It was quite possibly the least sexy thing she’d ever experienced.

  ‘Paul did it. He’s been looking forward to it. In fact,’ Winehouse gave a smile that chilled Teddington to the core, ‘that’s something I should thank you for. If you hadn’t brought him back, I wouldn’t be several thousand richer right now. That’ll come in handy when I get out.’

  Teddington stared at him. It was a riot. The police should be all over the place by now, Gold Command called in from Headquarters. ‘What makes you think you’ll ever get out now?’

  ‘Because I’m not the public face of this joyous event. That’s Houghton.’

  Houghton? Teddington frowned. She didn’t know much about him other than he was a convert to Islam that was more vocal than most about prisoners’ rights. ‘Houghton is in B-Wing.’

  Again, with the chilling smile. ‘I know. Once things kicked off here, word went through the kitchen, and the other two wings joined in. We’ve been waiting for this for weeks. Brett was supposed to kick it off, but you and your bloody boyfriend put a stop to that.’

  ‘So, you’re going to play on racial stereotypes and religious fervour to cover up the fact that you’re a petty thief with power issues.’

  The air rushed from her lungs when he punched her full force in the kidney. Through blinding pain, she could feel him reaching for her belt buckle.

  ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself,’ Runt warned.

  ‘Leo won’t like it,’ Robbins added.

  Teddington peered at him, now able to see he wasn’t tied, just lounging against the other pipe, not tied to it, as she was. She hadn’t been cold before, but now, she was, frozen by her fear and confusion.

  Winehouse wasn’t Leo – she was pretty sure of that. He’d been waiting on a call to riot, same as everyone else. Which left Robbins. But, if Robbins was talking about Leo in the third person, then he couldn’t be Leo either.

  So who was?

  ‘She’s in Maintenance Room Three.’

  The voice in Charlie’s ear sounded worried. Not a good sign. Steeling himself, Charlie ran out of the library and into the fray, literally having to fight his way across the floor. Someone was throwing burning toilet paper from the upper balconies, other burning items, too. With odd adrenalin-fuelled clarity, he looked up to recognise one burning cover, The Eyre Affair. Teddington had given him that. In pointless retribution, he punched the approaching rioter, feeling and hearing the man’s nose break. He needed keys to get past the gates to maintenance, and saw a flash of white shirt in a knot of bodies to his left. Officer Roberts.

  Roberts was doing his best; his Taser was on the floor, as was a twitching body Charlie couldn’t be bothered to identify. But, now, he was caught between three men, one behind holding him, while the others pummelled, punches and kicks landing with devastating effect.

  Charlie waded across.

  Grabbing the nearest thug by the back of the shirt, he sent him bumping into his mate, so they ricocheted off each other and onto the floor. The second they were out of his way, Charlie stepped forward and landed another direct punch into the face of the guy holding Roberts. Had this been a video game, he’d have gained bonus points for that; though, had this been a video game, he wouldn’t feel like he just broke a knuckle.

  As Roberts’ captor buckled, Charlie grabbed the front of Roberts’ shirt and pulled him out of the fight towards the edge of the floor.

  ‘Please don’t hurt me.’

  Charlie didn’t even glance at the sniveller. ‘If I wanted you hurt, I’d’ve left you where you were.’ Charlie’s long stride took them past most of the fighting to the quiet of the outskirts.

  ‘What do you want?’ Roberts was obviously terrified.

  ‘Your keys.’

  ‘Another breakout attempt? Now?’ Keen’s voice.

  Charlie half turned his head. ‘Teddington’s trapped in Maintenance Room Three. I need his keys to get through the gates.’

  ‘You need more than that,’ Roberts told him, his hand shaking, as he unbuckled the keys from his belt and handed them over. ‘You’ll need the password.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Charlie shook him.

  ‘I don’t know!’ The way he was crying suggested he was telling the truth.

  ‘I do.’ Keen’s hand stilled Charlie’s arm, as he reached back to punch Roberts.

  Charlie dropped his hold and faced Keen, pulling himself up short when he saw Carlisle a step behind. The DS’s hair wasn’t styled, he hadn’t shaved, and he wore a faded t-shirt over stained jeans and falling-apart track shoes. Nothing like the suit seen here before. Effective anonymity.

  Keen took a moment to step back into the main body of the floor. ‘Enough!’

  His voice echoed like a drill sergeant’s, and enough of the men froze, showing the riot was officially over. Keen led the way towards the Maintenance Rooms. Hardly able to believe he was letting the old man go first, Charlie followed in his wake, Carlisle moving up beside him. Some sick corner of his mind pointed out they were in rank order. Shame two of them weren’t in the force anymore.

  ‘How did you get in?’ he whispered over his shoulder to Carlisle. ‘Deal with the Governor?’

  ‘No,’ he snapped, and Charlie realised they’d hardly make deals with a suspect. The Governor was, by now, most definitely a suspect. Carlisle went on. ‘With Turner. Once he heard Teddington might be in trouble, he was on board.’

  ‘A lot of people around here care what happens to her,’ Keen said under his breath, slowing them as they neared the corridor to the Maintenance Rooms.

  Charlie nodded. ‘She’s a good woman.’

  Keen peered back at Charlie. ‘Yeah, too good for you. Keep your distance.’

  Teddington clenched her teeth. Winehouse had only listened to Runt and Robbi
ns long enough to remove her belt. It was what he did after that that had her gritting her teeth. She’d had no idea how much one inch of plastic could hurt. So far Winehouse had lashed her twice, and she’d managed not to scream, but she couldn’t hold in the tears. She let them fall, burn down her cheeks, as the welts burned across her back, and she leaned into the wall.

  ‘Enough.’

  The word left her cold. She felt her knees shaking, as she lowered herself to the floor. She knew that voice. There was hush in the room, and she dared to look up and see the Guv pacing over to Winehouse.

  ‘When I said you should have a little fun,’ he spoke with quiet calm command, ‘I meant rape the bitch, not torture her. This has to look real. Like she was killed in the riot.’

  She saw him turn to Fry and sneer. Teddington couldn’t quite believe the pleasure on Fry’s face when he slapped her. ‘Having fun yet?’

  ‘Want more.’

  ‘There are men in the corridor,’ he told her quietly. ‘They want cunt. You’ll do. Strip and get out there.’

  Teddington was shocked by what she was hearing. They may have discussed Fry was a bit of a sex maniac, but she hadn’t realised just how far into self-degradation the other woman was.

  And just like that, Fry stripped naked and walked silently from the room, heading eagerly towards her own gangbanging. Teddington had no idea what kind of psychosis led to that sort of behaviour, but at this point, she didn’t care. She twisted on the ground, moving her back against the wall.

  Now, Governor Peter Jones came to stand in front of her.

  ‘You’ll have to forgive me for not getting up, sir.’ She poured all her loathing into that last word.

  ‘And there’s your problem, Teddington. Just too damn smug.’

  ‘Too damn smart for you.’

  ‘I’m not the one tied to the ironmongery, about to become a tragic statistic of another terrorist plot.’

  Charlie moved Keen back, positioning himself nearer to the juncture of the corridor. He needed to know what was going on. A-wing was off to the right, through a set of gates. Usually, they were locked, now, they stood open. Five meters to his left was another gate, this was closed and probably locked, but now, he had to keys. Beyond them, according to the voice in his ear, and just out of sight, was the door to MR3. That was where he needed to be.