Due Process

by Jane Finch

  They had taken to leaving his door unlocked for the last few days. It didn’t mean he had more freedom, because there was always one of them in the adjoining room. He always assumed the one not present was shopping, or making calls, or doing whatever they needed to do. He went into the room and found Jake was alone. He sat with a newspaper across his legs and a pen had fallen to the floor. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly apart, and he was snoring. Tony froze. His eyes scanned the room briefly. The door to outside was closed and there was no key in the lock. Jake had his shoes off and was barefoot. There were the remnants of a fire in the grate and it looked like the heat had lulled the big man to sleep.

  Tony took a few tentative steps towards the door, keeping his eyes on the sleeping man. He reached out his hand and turned the handle, but the door failed to open. He peered at Jake to see if by some miracle the keys might be on his lap, but he couldn’t see any sign of them. In all probability, he thought, Clive had gone shopping and taken the key with him as he left.

  He glanced at the window but could clearly see the bars and knew there was no escape that way. If he tried to knock down the door Jake would wake up and probably give him a beating.

  There was nothing in the room that he could use. But then his eye moved to the fireplace and the pile of logs ready to burn. He was not a man of violence but he recognized an opportunity when he saw it. He walked cautiously behind Jake and over to the fire and slowly picked up a piece of wood. He weighed it in his hand. It was fairly substantial and all he had to do was smash it across Jake’s head. He hesitated. He knew that if he didn’t hit the man hard enough the first time he wouldn’t get a second chance. Clive could come back at any moment and then he would lose the opportunity.

  He gave no thought to what he might do or where he might go if he did get out, he just needed to do something to try and save his family. He lifted the log high into the air and brought it crashing down on to the back of Jake’s head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Samuel had been in San Quentin for seven years. During that time he listened to conversations, learned about the other inmates, found out what he could about the guards, but always kept himself apart from the others. Until one day in March, just before Easter, he was told he had a visitor.

  He was somewhat surprised. No-one had visited him since he had arrived. California was a long way from Jamaica and his men knew they needed to keep a low profile. There had always been a contingency plan that his brother Julius would run the operation. There was to be no contact.

  So Samuel was amazed and annoyed when he saw Julius waiting for him. But also a little bit pleased. Seven years was a long time.

  They nodded at each other and Samuel sat at the table and waited. The visitors room was busy with several chairs and tables dotted symmetrically around the room. Some inmates had several visitors and others had wives and girlfriends and were trying to sneak a quick kiss when the three guards standing around the perimeter weren’t looking.

  There was just one table left, with two chairs, and Julius sat waiting. He was nearly as big as Samuel, but his hair was cropped short which made his head look small upon his huge shoulders. He wore a bright summer shirt and cropped trousers, and well worn sandals. His Rayban sunglasses were tucked in to the top of his shirt. His hands resting on the table flashed with gold jewellery. Several of the people in the room glanced nervously in his direction. When Samuel arrived they lowered their eyes immediately.

  “Brother, why ya here?” growled Samuel.

  Julius spread his hands on the table.

  “No need get heated, mon,” said Julius, “Been seven years. They’al forgot ‘bout you by now.” His Jamaican drawl was so comforting to hear that Samuel almost wanted to hug him.

  “Talk, then,” Samuel said, just wanting to hear his brother speak and close his eyes and imagine he was back on his island.

  “Woulda come sooner, mon, but the old U S of A wouldn’t let me in. You sorta messed the situation up for us all.”

  Samuel nodded.

  “Figured that’d be the case.”

  Julius leaned forward and dropped his voice.

  “How it been?”

  “Kept ma nose clean,” Samuel replied quietly, “had me no problem.”

  “You hear bout the judge?” asked Julius.

  “Right shame, that.”

  Julius smiled.

  “Made sure he knew why afore he accidentally fell in front o’ train. Got Eddie to do job, seein’s as I stuck home.”

  “Eddie did good,” Samuel said, leaning back in the chair and stretching out his legs. Julius did likewise. They were big men to sit at such a small table and they were cramped. All three guards looked over as the two men moved, but relaxed immediately when they realized nothing was happening.

  Julius was quiet for a while and they studied each other. A lot was said that didn’t need words.

  “I reckon you be out soon.” stated Julius.

  Samuel said nothing.

  “You wanna sort the agent out, then, once you outta here.”

  Still Samuel did not reply.

  “Reckon they took your threat serious, she was gone after the trial.”

  Samuel leant forward, his eyes burning with the anger that had been festering inside him.

  “I want her ta pay. I want her ta suffer. She gonna hurt.”

  Julius nodded his agreement.

  “Right wiv you, brother. We got things rollin’. She ain’t safe.”

  One of the guards was walking towards them. Both brothers raised their eyes and looked at him and he stopped.

  “Time’s up,” said the guard.

  Julius stood and the brothers shook hands. No-one noticed that Julius had one less gold ring on his finger as he left. Samuel slipped it quickly into his pocket. He was ready to start making contacts, for soon he would need information. And now he could pay.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Tony kept running until his eyes blurred through lack of oxygen, his chest screamed for air, and his legs would no longer lift his feet off the ground. He had raced blindly through the forest outside the cabin that had been his prison for so long. He knew he was already weak from limited food and so little exercise in recent days. Or was it weeks? Time had passed from day and night, most of it a blur.

  As he crashed headlong into a tree he collapsed, dazed, to his knees and then lay flat on the floor, waiting for his blood to re-oxygenate his aching limbs. He concentrated on slowing his heart rate so the pounding in his ears would cease. He needed to be able to listen for anyone following him or for anything that might direct him to where there might be people, and help.

  He listened to the leaves as the wind blew through the trees above him. Looking up he could see sycamore and chestnut, so assumed he must still be somewhere in England. Apart from his own gasping he could hear nothing else. He scrunched up his eyes until his vision cleared, and then looked around. He could see that he had been running through a dense forest, on an unmade track, with thistles up to his waist and brambles entwining bush and sapling.

  He noticed then the scratches on his arms and legs from the bramble thorns as he had run along the track. Trickles of blood meandered down to his hands and feet like lost rivers seeking the sea. He wiped the blood with his sleeve and then struggled to stand. He knew he had to keep going, it wouldn’t be long before Jake woke up or Clive returned, and they would come looking for him, there was no doubt about that.

  He took a deep breath and began to hurry onwards through the trees, slower now, both to keep his breath shallow and to make less noise.

  He thought he could hear the echoing sounds of water, off to his right. He was reluctant to leave the track but the prospect of water nearby persuaded him, and anyway it might be a good idea to move into the trees. Looking behind him he could see his footprints clearly in the soft mud. He turned right and plunged through the undergrowth, his ears keenly picking up the sounds of running water.

  The forest s
eemed to suddenly drop, and he paused. To his left the land went downhill and out of sight. To his right the land rose steeply. He had the choice of going up the hill and perhaps getting to a higher advantage point where he might be able to see the way out, or follow slope to find the water. He turned left. Everyone knew water ran downhill, he told himself.

  Within minutes he came across a stream, fast running from the hill above, the water playfully rushing over fallen branches and rocks. Tony knelt down and scooped up the water and drenched the cuts on his arms and legs. The cool water felt good and after only a moment’s hesitation he cupped his hands and drank thirstily.

  It was whilst he was drinking that he distinctly heard the grating sound of a lorry changing gears. There had to be a road nearby. He was about to race toward the sound but stopped. A road could lead to escape, but it could also bring his captors. He couldn’t risk it. He had to keep going.

  He turned and headed down the slope, following the stream in the hope it would lead to civilization and ultimately rescue.

  PART 3

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Amanda couldn’t believe she was heading out across the Atlantic Ocean again. Ten years was a long time and she had adjusted to her new life in England. She no longer thought of herself as Miranda Bell, and other than the occasions the claustrophobia hit her, such as the recent incident in the pantry, she had managed to push her old life to the back of her mind.

  Her main regret had been leaving her grandmother. She re-read in her mind the letter Tony had sent, suggesting bringing her over for their anniversary. Such a lovely thought, and it would have been a wonderful surprise, but it could never have happened. Amanda was wise enough to know that hardened criminals like Samuel King had long memories, and now that he had found her there was no other way than to give him what he wanted. Revenge. Samuel King had got Tony, and she had got the message. Loud and clear.

  She accepted a drink from the stewardess and looked at her watch. She had eight hours to Miami and then a two hour layover before the connection to Kingston, Jamaica. She was travelling under her real name, no point in deception now. No doubt his men would be waiting for her and from then on she would have to wing it until she was able to look Mr. Samuel King in the eye.

  It seemed a crazy plan at first. If he really only wanted revenge then all he had to do was a knife in the back at the airport and it was done. But she knew it was more than that. He was holding Tony for a reason and that was why there was no other way.

  She caught the eye of the man in the aisle across from her. He was small and wiry with swarthy skin and dark eyes. He stared at her until she looked away. He definitely looked of Caribbean origin, and was more than likely one of King’s mob. Keeping an eye on her, no doubt.

  She sighed. Was she being paranoid? Did she really think every man that looked at her was a pimp for Samuel King? She turned and looked down the aisle of the plane. She noticed several men watching her. It could be any one of them, or all of them, or none.

  She leant back in her seat and closed her eyes. She would try to get some sleep and not think too much about what was waiting for her in the Caribbean.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  It had started to rain and Tony thought he had never been so cold. A chill wind had sprung up and the rain would have been horizontal if he had been in an open area, but as it was it fell in cascades from the branches overhead. It made him wonder if he was high up in the hills somewhere, maybe in Scotland, for the weather to change so dramatically. Of course, he had no idea how long he had been unconscious when they had abducted him, so he could have been anywhere.

  He needed to stop and remove some of the dagger-like thorns from his legs. The rain was washing away the streaks of blood but it was obvious that some of the thorns were embedded and the pain was excruciating.

  Panting, he sat on a fallen log and gently pulled them from his skin. There were burrs in his hair and on his clothes, and a myriad of flying insects swarmed around his head. Got to be Scotland, he thought as he worked, wincing frequently. When he had removed those he could see he ran his fingers through his hair and looked around. The trees appeared to be thinning and he could see a field beyond the copse he was sitting in.

  He stood up carefully and painfully, stretching and gritting his teeth. He was disorientated and for a moment couldn’t remember which way he had been running. Then he looked down and saw his footprints. Then he saw the tree.

  When he was a boy growing up in Norfolk he had spent much of his childhood building tree houses. There was one in his garden, one in his grandparents’ allotment, one on the common, and one at his friend’s house. So climbing trees was something he could definitely do. He took his time but was soon sitting in the branches where he could see beyond the forest to the hills beyond. A road was clearly visible beyond the field and he knew he had to head in that direction. He was sure Clive would have returned already and they would both be hot on his trail. The road was the best option.

  He scrambled down the tree and headed off in the right direction. Almost immediately the brambles thinned out and the trees grew further apart. Even the rain had begun to ease, although as he hurried towards the road he could see the grey mist hovering over the land in a ghostly embrace.

  The relief as he left the forest behind was indescribable. The only problem was he could be seen clearly, and so he tried to hurry along the side of the field where a hawthorn hedge shielded him from anyone who might be following.

  Although he had grown up in farming country, he had no idea what was growing in the field, but there were deep ruts along the edge and he frequently lost his footing. Eventually he reached the road and stumbled on to the tarmac. The level ground was as welcome as a sauna in Iceland in winter.

  Now the problem was which direction to take. As he stood contemplating, he heard the unmistakable sound of an approaching car. He panicked, fear of his abductors overwhelming him, and he raced back into the field and ducked behind the hedge. A blue Ford drove past, the gears clanking as the driver changed gear. Looking over the hedge he could clearly see the woman driver and cursed to himself.

  He went back into the road and waited. He had to be strong and believe that he could do this. After a few minutes there was no sign of another car and so he turned in the direction the blue Ford had gone and started to walk. The road was narrow and began to grow steep, and just as he was wondering if he should have gone in the other direction, downhill, he heard another vehicle approaching.

  It was a white van. He turned to face it, squinting to see the driver behind the scraping wipers. He put up his hands and stood in the middle of the road so the driver would have no option but to stop. As the van screeched to a halt Tony felt an overwhelming sense of relief, which turned to horror as the van door opened and Clive jumped out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Kingston airport had a particular smell to it. It was a mixture of incense, sweat, perfume, and the intense sweetness of flowers. The air was thick with the cloying odours, coupled with the high humidity the result of a recent thunderstorm.

  Amanda queued patiently. The line in front of her seemed never ending, and the two passport control officers appeared to enjoy the chaos that was erupting in the arrivals hall. Children began playing tag around the myriad of bare-skinned legs, squealing and shouting at one another. The woman in front of Amanda began hopping from foot to foot, gazing anxiously beyond the control stations to the public toilets. Announcements yelled continuously over the loudspeaker, a deep, lilting voice that drowned out the shrieks of the children and advised everyone a long list of items that were forbidden.

  Amanda shuffled forward with everyone else, moving a few inches at a time. Eventually she reached the yellow line, searched for her passport, and waited to be called. The passport officer looked up at her and nodded. She handed over her papers and watched as he checked his computer screen. He looked from the screen back to her several times, then stamped the last page of her passport and han
ded it back to her.

  The wait had been so long the luggage had already been unloaded from the carousel and she soon found her suitcase and passed through the double doors and into the brilliant sunshine. Kingston airport was hectic. Aged, rickety taxis stood waiting, exhaust fumes bursting from their rear ends and hanging like ectoplasm in the sticky air. A group of men milled around the entrance, self-rolled cigarettes hanging from their mouths, some wearing sleeveless tee-shirts and flowery shorts, others bare-chested. A few women of dubious character and intentions studied the single men who left the airport building, assessing their wealth and vulnerability.

  The sound of car horns and grating gears competed with the roar of another incoming plane. Amanda stood uncertainly. She had no idea where to go from here, assuming that they would make contact with her. She didn’t have long to wait and soon felt a strong hand take her arm and guided her towards a waiting car. She went quietly, taking note of the black sedan, the driver wearing sunglasses, the tinted windows and as the door opened the darkness within.

  She didn’t protest when the blindfold was tied around her, only grateful it was not a hood. The last thing she needed was another panic attack. She knew there was already someone sitting inside the car, and the man who had gripped her arm followed her into the vehicle, so she was sandwiched between the two.

  The air conditioning was blasting, a comfort after the thick air outside. She heard the locks click, the gears engage, and the car took off. No-one said a word, and she kept quiet. The only person she wanted to speak to was Samuel King. She was not wired, so there was no point in making comments to give her team any clues. Just the tracking device in her watch, so they would know where she was at all times. At least, that was the idea.

  She could feel the car slowing and then speeding up, lurching forward in her seat when the driver slammed on his brakes, but no-one in the car uttered a sound. She thought it to be about thirty minutes before the car finally stopped, and she was pulled out of the door and into the sultry heat. A hand went to the back of her head and the blindfold was removed. She squinted as the bright sunlight partly blinded her and then quickly looked around.