Electronic Gags (13 page)

“Will
the drill appear on TV?” Martinez asked.

“No.
Only the supreme leader will receive a live stream of the drill on Skype.”

“Will
the fugitives be armed?” Coleman asked.

“They
won’t be armed but they might acquire some weapons during their two-hour head
start, so your men must shoot them on sight. The supreme leader thought it best
to use the death row prisoners in drills to familiarize our cops with NASP
tracking. It’s game on Wednesday.” The commissioner was worried about making a
bad impression after the Jennifer Rodriguez debacle. “The supreme leader will
be watching the drill live, so you must select your best men. The fugitives who
survive for a week will get amnesty. The fugitives will be fighting for their
lives and they will embarrass us if you underestimate them. We must show the
supreme leader that we are a capable police force. Next week cops from other subdistricts
will take part in the drill. This drill is very important. Is that clear?”

“Yes
sir!” Coleman and Martinez chorused.

“The
supreme leader said the CIB will also take part in the drill.” The commissioner
clenched his fists. “The CIB think they are the best security agency in the
country and we must show them we are better than them.” He pursed his lips and
creased his forehead, recalling how the CIB director-general betrayed him.
“Kill the fugitives as quickly as possible. I don’t want the CIB to do better
than us! Is that clear?”

“Yes
sir,” the two chief inspectors chorused.

*
* * * *

The
prisoners in cell 13 tensed when they heard the lock of the door turning. The
door’s hinges creaked.

“Everyone
out!” a hoarse voice ordered.

Freddie
and Michael looked at each other.
This is it,
they thought.
We are
facing the firing squad.

“I
said everyone out!” the hoarse voice repeated.

The
prisoners hugged each other goodbye.

“I
won’t say this again,” the prison guard shouted. “Get the fuck out of that
cell.”

The
inmates wobbled out of the cell. Since their arrest, they had only got out of
the cell when the CIB took them out for interrogation. Although they hated the
stinky, flea-infested cell, they dreaded leaving it. Either torture or death
awaited them outside the cell.

The
guard herded them into a hall and ordered them to sit on the floor. Other
guards brought prisoners from other cells and for the first time since their
arrest, the men from cell 13 met the other members of their group. All death
row prisoners belonged to the rebel group except Jennifer Rodriguez, the
ex-member of the Police Special Branch.

“The
prison warden wants to address you,” a guard announced. “He will be here in a
moment.

A
minute later, the prison warden, a big hairy man of Polish descent, entered.

“The
supreme leader ordered me to release four prisoners every week,” he announced.

The
prisoners sighed with relief.

“Don’t
get carried away,” the warden said. “The prisoners will only get a two-hour
head start before the police go after them with orders to kill. The fugitives
will work in pairs. A squad of fifteen policemen will chase each pair. The fugitives
who survive for a week will get amnesty.” He was as excited as a sports
commentator previewing a big match. He and his colleagues would enjoy betting
on the death games. “We shall start releasing the first four prisoners on
Wednesday. You must fully charge the batteries of your NASTs if you don’t want
to be on the run with a flat battery. I wish you the best of luck.”

The
guards headed the prisoners back to their cells. No prisoner wanted to be
released first. The prison no longer felt like jail; it now felt like a wall of
protection from the death games.

Nine
minutes after the prisoners returned to their cells, a guard came to cell 13.

“Is
prisoner D5574 in this cell?” the guard asked.

Freddie
raised a hand.

“Are
you D5574?” the guard demanded.

Freddie
nodded.

“I
don’t understand sign language,” snapped the guard. “Are you D5574?”

“Yes,”
Freddie said and gritted his teeth when the electronic gag shocked him.

“That’s
better,” the guard said as he unlocked the gate. “You have a visitor.”

Freddie
reluctantly followed the guard. He knew it was his mother and he didn’t want
her to see him like this. The guard took Freddie to a room where his mother was
sitting.

Melissa
sighed with relief when she saw Freddie. But the relief at seeing him alive
only lasted for a second. Freddie was a sorry sight. He was so dirty and so
wretched that she wept. Although he was still overweight, he had lost a lot of
weight, which would have been desirable in other circumstances.

“I
learnt about your arrest yesterday. What did you do?”

Freddie
said nothing.

“Talk
to me, Freddie.”

He
pointed at his electronic gag.

“Can
I buy you airtime?”

Freddie
shook his head. Visitors were forbidden to buy airtime for death row prisoners.

“Oh
that’s horrible.” She took out a pen and a piece of paper from her handbag.
“Write your answers here. Will they take you to trial?”

Freddie
scribbled on the paper.
Mom, I love you. Promise me you will go on with your
life no matter what happens to me.
He pushed the paper back to her.

Her
tears drenched the paper as she read the note. “Freddie do they want to kill
you?” she asked, pushing the paper back to him.

He
pushed the paper back to her.

“How
can you tell me to go on with my life? You are my life, Freddie. If you die I
will die too.”

“Please,
mom.” The electric shock shook his head like a vibrator. “Promise me that…” He
squinted with pain. “…you will live for Kyle.”

Melissa
couldn’t bear seeing him in so much pain. “You have said enough, Freddie. I promise
I won’t kill myself if something happens to you.” She pushed the paper back to
him. “Are they going to take you to trial?”

Freddie’s
head was now aching and he was feeling dizzy. He waited for the dizziness to
ebb away before he scribbled his reply on the paper.
I’m sorry mom. They are
going to kill us. They will kill four of us every week, starting with
Wednesday.

“Time
up!” the guard said, dragging Freddie by the collar.

Melissa
wept as she saw her son going back to the cells. She wept even more when she
read the note. She put the note in her handbag and walked out of the room.

“Show
me the note!” a guard ordered.

Melissa
gave him the note, which he read with a frown and tossed back at her. She
neatly folded the note and put it back in her handbag. The note probably
contained Freddie’s last words to her.

Melissa
got into her battered Ferrari and wept for more than five minutes before she
drove out of the maximum security prison. She had only driven for seven minutes
when all cars in front of her stopped. A look at her watch told her it was time
for the national anthem. She got out of her car, stood at attention and
weeping, she sang the song she hated most, God
Bless the Ten Districts of
America.
It hurt her to sing praises about a government that wanted to kill
her son.

At
four minutes past twelve, Melissa started her car and in twenty-five minutes,
she was driving through the streets of her neighborhood. She stopped the car
when she saw Danielle Wright walking by the roadside. She jumped out of the car
and charged at Danielle Wright.

“You
must be happy now that my son joined your son on death row,” she said.

“What
are you talking about?”

“The
CIB arrested Freddie last week. My son wouldn’t be in trouble if he was more
careful in his choice of friends.”

“They
arrested Freddie?” Danielle Wright said with shock. “I’m so sorry.”

“No,
you are not. You were unhappy that Freddie escaped jail and now you got your
wish. I’m on my way from the prison. Freddie said they will start killing them
tomorrow, four prisoners every week.”

Danielle
couldn’t look Melissa in the face. “I feel bad. I had no right accusing Freddie.
Sometimes when things go bad it feels good to blame someone. Please forgive me,
Melissa.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “Michael is all I have. I don’t know what
I will do if they kill him.” She wiped tears from her face, messing her
make-up. “I haven’t visited Michael for more than two weeks. I can’t stand the
sight of him in that dreadful place.”

“At
least it was Michael’s idea to enter politics,” Melissa said, walking back to
her car. “My son was only caught in the crossfire. He had just come here on a
short leave from the wildlife refuge.”

“I’m
sorry for what happened to Freddie.”

“Thanks
for your sympathy,” Melissa snapped before she drove away.

*
* * * *

“You
are the older brother,” Christopher Ward said. “Pick first.”

Brandon
Ward put his hand in the tin on the table, took a piece of paper and handed it
to his young brother.

“You
picked prisoner number D5573,” Christopher said. “Take your second pick.”

Brandon
took another piece of paper from the tin and gave it to Christopher.

“D5574,”
Christopher said with a laugh. “Is this a sign? You picked the last two
prisoners on death row.”

“It’s
your turn now, little brother,” Brandon said. “Take your pick.”

Christopher
picked prisoners D5561 and D5525.

“It’s
game on!” the supreme leader said with boyish delight. “Make arrangements for
the release of the four prisoners.”

“Okay
Brandon.” Christopher promptly phoned Retired Colonel Carter, the head of the
prison services. “Patriot Carter, I want you to make arrangements for the
release of prisoners D5525, D5561, D5573 and D5574. It’s an order from the
supreme leader himself.”

“This
will be an exciting game,” Brandon Ward said, rubbing his hands.

“I
hope the prisoners will last for a day or two and prolong the fun. How much
shall we bet, big brother?”

“It’s
not about the money,” the supreme leader said. “It’s about participating.”

“You
sound so Olympic about our death games,” snickered Christopher Ward.

On
Wednesday, prison guards took all death row prisoners out of their cells and
counted them. The warden addressed the prisoners after the head count.

“The
supreme leader selected the four prisoners to be released today. We are
releasing prisoners number D5525, D5561, D5573 and D5574.”

Freddie’s
stomach turned when he heard his number. He was going to be in the first group
of prisoners to enter the death games.

“Prisoner
D5525 will partner D5561 and D5573 will partner D5574.” The warden paused,
waiting for applause, which he didn’t get. “Here are the rules of the game.
Rule number one... don’t separate from your partner. If a player goes more than
a hundred meters away from his partner, the squad chasing the fugitives will
call for reinforcements. Rule number two… don’t interfere with the cameramen
and reporters recording the chase. If you do that, the supreme leader will send
paratroopers. Rule number three... stay at least four kilometers away from the
country’s borders. If you go close to the border your NASTs will explode.  Rule
number four, the last rule... you will get amnesty if you stay alive for a
week. We have credited the NAST of each of the four chosen prisoners with a
thousand lucres.” He paused, expecting the prisoners to clap hands in applause,
which didn’t happen. “The four prisoners are free to ask questions about the
death games.”

“Excuse
me!” Jennifer braced herself for an electric shock and sighed with relief when
none came. “What form of transport will the cops chasing us use?”

“They
will use cars but if you break the rules, we will bring in helicopters.”

“Where
are the cops stationed?” Jennifer asked again.

“The
cops will start their chase from here, exactly two hours after your release.
They haven’t yet arrived but I guess they will be arriving in the next hour or
so. We will give you your personal belongings before you go. If there are no
further questions all prisoners will return to their cells except the chosen
four.”

Michael
hugged Freddie.

“I
love you man,” Freddie said tearfully. “See you in the afterlife.”

Weeping,
the prisoners hugged D5525, D5561, D5573 and D5574.

When
the rest of the prisoners had gone, Freddie walked to D5573. He noted that she
would have been beautiful if she didn’t have such cold eyes. Her face looked
familiar.

“Hi
D5573,” Freddie said. “I’m D5574, your partner. You look familiar. I think I
saw you somewhere when I was a free man.”