Running Blind / The Freedom Trap (34 page)

‘It’s very clear,’ I said. ‘You get me out of here and you’ll get your money. I’ll still be up on the deal, anyway.’

‘I’ll put it up to the boys,’ he said. ‘It’s up to them whether you’re accepted as a client.’

I said, ‘Cossie, if your mob is as good as you say it is, what the hell are you doing in here? That puzzles me.’

‘I’m just the contact man,’ he said. ‘I was recruited in here. Besides, I only have another two years’ bird, then I’m out, anyway. Why make trouble for myself? I’ve got a good business waiting for me outside and I’m not going to throw that away.’ He looked up. ‘It’d be dicey for you if you came back to England.’

‘That doesn’t trouble me,’ I said. ‘I was only on the loose for a week in England—I know nothing about the place and I don’t care to know any more.’

Cossie moved a piece. ‘Check. There’s another thing. You’ve been matey with Slade lately, haven’t you? You do a lot of talking together.’

‘He’s helping me with my Russian,’ I said, moving my king.

‘That stops,’ said Cossie flatly. ‘You keep clear of Slade or the deal’s off no matter how much money you have.’

I looked up, startled. ‘What the hell…’

‘That’s the way it is,’ he said equably, and moved his bishop. ‘Check!’

‘Don’t tell me your mob is patriotic,’ I said, and laughed. ‘What’s the idea?’

Cossie gave me a pained look. ‘You ought to know better than to ask questions. You just do as you’re told.’ He turned to Smeaton who was walking past. ‘What do you know?’ he said. ‘Rearden nearly beat me.’ And that was a damned lie. ‘He’s got a good chance in the tournament.’

Smeaton looked at him with expressionless eyes and moved on.

So the game was on. I felt the tension rising in me and this time it was the tension of hope and not hopelessness. I even began to sing a bit as I scrubbed the tables in the Hall and I didn’t slip up on a thing. Smeaton looked on me with approval, or as near to it as he could show. I was proving to be a model prisoner.

I obeyed Cosgrove’s orders and dropped Slade who glanced at me reproachfully from time to time. I didn’t know why Cossie wanted me to do that but this wasn’t the time to argue it out. All the same, I felt a bit sorry for Slade; he hadn’t too many friends in this nick.

I kept my eye on Cosgrove unobtrusively and watched who he talked to and who his pals were. As far as I could see he was as relaxed as usual and there were no changes in his normal pattern, but since I hadn’t studied him especially before it was difficult to tell.

After a couple of weeks I went up to him during free association time. ‘What about a game of chess, Cossie?’

He looked at me with blank eyes. ‘Keep away from me, you silly bastard. I don’t want to be involved with you.’

‘You
are
involved,’ I snapped. ‘Smeaton was just asking if I wasn’t going to enter the chess tournament, after all. He wanted to know if I’d given up my lessons. He also wanted to know if I’d given up Russian.’

Cosgrove blinked. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s go over there.’

We set up the board. ‘Any news?’

‘I’ll tell you when there’s any news.’ He was in a bad temper.

‘Look, Cossie; I’m worried,’ I said. ‘I’ve just heard that the top security nick is finished—the one on Wight. I’m scared of being transferred. It could happen any time.’

He looked around the Hall. ‘These things can’t be rushed—it’s a complicated set-up. What do you suppose you’ve paid five thousand quid for? Just a jump over a wall? There’s a whole escape line to be laid on.’ He moved a chess piece. ‘I don’t know much about that side of it, but I hear it’s a different set-up every time. No pattern, see? You ought to know that, Rearden, of all people.’

I stared at him. ‘I see someone’s been checking up on me.’

He looked at me with cold eyes. ‘What do you think? A part of that five thousand nicker went towards checking you out. The boys are very security-minded. You have an interesting record; I can’t see why you slipped up this time.’

‘It happens to all of us,’ I said. ‘I was shopped—same as you, Cossie.’

‘But I
know
who shopped me,’ he said savagely. ‘And the bastard is going to regret it to his dying day once I get out of here.’

‘Better have it done before you get out,’ I advised. ‘You have the perfect alibi—you’re in the nick; and enough time has gone by so that the busies aren’t likely to think of you.’

He smiled reluctantly. ‘You have interesting ideas, Rearden.’

‘And what makes you think I don’t know who shopped
me?’
I asked. ‘Trouble is I don’t have contacts on the outside to arrange an accident.’

‘I can arrange it,’ he offered.

‘Forget it. I’ll be out myself soon enough if your mob comes up to scratch. So they had me investigated in South Africa, did they? I hope they were satisfied.’

‘You passed. You’ve got some good friends out there.’ Smeaton was passing close by. Cossie said, ‘Not that move, stupid; it gives me mate in three moves.’ He looked up at Smeaton. ‘He’s not as good as I thought he was; he’ll never make it in the tournament.’

Smeaton sneered at him without moving a muscle of his face.

Cossie was right—I didn’t make it in the tournament—but it wasn’t because of my lousy chess. Two days later he came to me instead of
vice versa.
‘It’s set up.’

‘They changed my cell yesterday,’ I said.

‘Doesn’t matter. You’ll be taken out in daylight—from the exercise yard on Saturday. Three o’clock exactly—remember that.’

There was a sudden tightening in my belly. ‘What’s the drill?’

‘Have you ever seen them putting up the Christmas lights in Regent Street?’ Cossie asked. He snapped his fingers in annoyance. ‘Of course, you haven’t. Anyway, they have this truck, see, with a platform on a long articulated arm—to hoist up the electricians.’

‘I know what you mean,’ I said. ‘They use them at Jan Smuts Airport at Jo’burg to service the big jets. They call them cherry-pickers.’

‘Do they?’ he said interestedly. ‘I see why they might. Anyway, there’ll be one of those coming over the wall on Saturday. I’ll show you where to stand, and when it comes over you jump in quick. There’ll be a bloke on the platform to help you, and you’ll be out in two ticks. That’s going over the wall in style.’

He turned to survey the Hall, then continued rapidly. ‘There’ll be a hell of a lot of other things going on at the same time, but you won’t take any notice of all that. Just keep your mind on the big platform.’

‘Okay,’ I said.

‘And I’ve been asked to tell you something—if you’re taken out and you can’t find the twenty thousand quid, then God help you because no one else will. You’ll not live to regret it—and that’s not a slip of the tongue. I was specially asked to tell you that in case you want to change your mind.’

‘The mob will get its money,’ I said shortly.

‘All right; I’ll see you on Saturday then.’ He turned away, then paused and turned back. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot,’ he said casually. ‘Someone else is going with you, and you’re going to help him.’

‘Who?’

Cosgrove looked at me blandly. ‘Slade!’

I stared at Cosgrove unbelievingly. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you believe in freedom for others?’

‘The matter!’ My voice rose. ‘The man walks with
sticks,
Cossie. He’s a bloody cripple.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ he warned.

In a low voice I said savagely, ‘How in hell is Slade supposed to make a break for it? He can’t run.’

‘You’ll be there to help him, won’t you?’ said Cosgrove smoothly.

‘Like hell I will.’

‘Well, I’ll tell you something, Rearden. Those sticks of his are a bit of a fake—he’s been putting it on a bit ever since he came out of hospital. He can run well enough. Oh, I don’t say he could break the four-minute mile, but he can toddle along enough for what we want.’

‘Then he can bloody well toddle along by himself,’ I said forcibly. ‘Christ, if he obstructs my escape and I’m nabbed, I’ll spend six months in solitary—and I’d certainly be sent to the new nick in Wight or to “E” Wing in Durham. I’d
never
get out of there.’

‘The same applies to Slade,’ said Cosgrove easily. ‘And don’t forget he’s in for over forty years.’ His voice tautened
and a rasp entered into it. ‘Now you listen to me, Rearden; Slade is a bloody sight more important to us than you are. You wouldn’t believe how much money we have riding on him. So you’ll bloody well do as you’re told. As for going to Durham, you’re due to be transferred there on Sunday, anyway.’

‘Oh, boy!’ I said. ‘You play rough.’

‘What’s the matter? Is it that Slade is a spy? Has a sudden wave of patriotism overcome you?’

‘Hell, no! I wouldn’t care if he’s inside for kidnapping the Queen, the Prime Minister and whole damned Cabinet. It’s just that he’s going to be a flaming liability.’

Cosgrove assumed a placatory tone. ‘Well, now; maybe we can compensate you for that. Our agreement is that when we get you out then you pay us twenty thousand quid. Right?’

I nodded wearily. ‘Right.’

‘Suppose we cut that in half and make it ten thou’. With the live body of Slade as makeweight for the other ten thou’. How would you feel about that?’

‘It has its points,’ I conceded.

‘I don’t think it’s at all bad considering you’re going to be lumbered with Slade anyway,’ said Cosgrove.

‘Do you have authority for that offer?’ I asked suspiciously.

‘Of course I have,’ he said, and smiled thinly. ‘Of course, it has its converse side. If you get over the wall and Slade doesn’t, then you get the chop. That’s just so you remember that Slade is more important than you are.’

I said, ‘This is just getting him over the wall?’

‘That’s it. Once the pair of you are on the other side my pals will look after you both.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s a certainty Slade couldn’t make it on his own so that’s why we’re doing it this way. I’ll give it to you straight; he
can’t
run very well.
Neither could you if you had a stainless steel peg through each hip joint.’

‘How is he at climbing?’

‘His arms are strong but you might have to give him a bunk up when that platform comes over.’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’d better have a talk to him.’

‘No!’ said Cosgrove. ‘You don’t go near him. That’s part of the deal. He’s been talked to already and he knows what to do. I’m the one who tells
you
what to do.’ A bell rang stridently signifying the end of free association time. He flipped his hand at me. ‘See you in the yard on Saturday.’

Saturday was a long time coming. I was in a muck sweat when they changed my cell again—two changes in three days—and I wondered if someone guessed that an escape was in the wind. It took all my will power to carry on with my studies in the evenings and my Russian suffered and I turned to the course on Eng. Lit. but found
Finnegans Wake
hardly more relaxing in the circumstances.

I kept my eye on Slade and noted with glumness the obvious weakness of his legs. It wasn’t going to be at all easy to get him over the wall, cherry-picker or no cherry-picker. Once he saw me watching him and his eyes casually swept past me without a flicker. I didn’t see Cosgrove talking to him and came to the conclusion that he might have a different contact. It was possible that the whole damn prison was riddled by the hirelings of the Scarperers.

I scrubbed the tables and swept the Hall during the day and made sure I did a good job—even on the Saturday morning. I wanted no sign of abnormality to appear at all. But I hadn’t much appetite for the midday meal and left most of it. At a table across the Hall I saw Slade polishing his tin plate with a slice of bread.

At two-thirty we were marched into the yard for free exercise. Some of the boys were kicking a ball about, but
most strolled up and down enjoying the sun and the sky and the air. I drifted over to Cosgrove and we walked the length of the yard. He said, ‘I’ll tell you where it’s coming over and then we walk right past, see? Then I’ll take you to the place you have to wait. You stay there and you keep one eye on me and one on the wall—but don’t stare at it as though expecting something to happen.’

‘I’m not stupid.’

He grunted. ‘That’s as maybe. All right, we’re coming to it now. See that chalk mark?’

‘I see it,’ I said, and almost laughed. It was a crudely phallic scrawl more likely to be found in a run-down public lavatory.

Cossie wasn’t laughing. ‘That’s where it comes over. Now we carry on to the end of the yard.’ We walked on and turned in unison, just like the teachers who supervised the playground at school used to do when I was a kid. ‘You might have to jump for it, but there’ll be a bloke to help you.’

‘Jump!’ I said. ‘What about Slade?’

‘You give him a bunk-up first. There’ll be ropes hanging from the platform. He’ll be all right once he grabs those—he has strong arms.’

I saw Slade watching the football match with evident appreciation. ‘He’ll be leaving his sticks behind then.’

‘That’s obvious,’ said Cosgrove impatiently. We strolled back to a point on the other side of the yard facing the chalk mark. Slade was leaning against the wall quite close to the mark and wouldn’t have to move more than a few feet when the action started.

Cosgrove said, ‘Now you just stay here and wait for it.’ He consulted something he held in his fingers and I saw it was a very small ladies’ watch. ‘Nearly twenty minutes to go.’

The watch vanished. ‘Where did you get that?’ I asked.

‘That doesn’t matter,’ he said with a sour grin. ‘And I won’t have it at all in twenty-five minutes. The screws’ll act as though someone lit a fire under them when this comes off and they’ll turn the whole bloody place upside down. They won’t find this watch, though.’

I leaned against the wall and looked at the faint chalk mark on the other side of the yard. I could hear the traffic on the other side of that exterior wall but not much because it was Saturday afternoon and there wasn’t much commercial stuff on the roads.

Cosgrove said, ‘I’ll leave you now, and this is what you do. At two minutes to three a fight will start over in that corner. There’ll be a lot of noise. As soon as you hear it you start walking—slowly, mind you—across the yard towards that mark. Don’t make a fuss about it and, for God’s sake, don’t run. Slade will see you move and he’ll get ready.’

‘I could have done with talking to him about it myself,’ I grumbled.

‘Too dangerous,’ said Cosgrove. ‘Now, don’t be surprised by anything else that happens around you, no matter what it is. Just keep your mind on your job and head for that mark. By the time you get there the platform will be coming over. You hoist Slade up on your shoulders and then you jump for it yourself. It should be easy.’

‘I’ll be all right, Cossie.’

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Good luck, Rearden.’ He grinned crookedly. ‘Under the circumstances we won’t shake hands. I’m going now; I’ll be talking to Paddy Colquhoun until this thing’s all over.’ The watch appeared again. ‘Fifteen minutes exactly.’

‘Wait a minute,’ I said. ‘What about the closed-circuit TV outside the wall?’

‘That’ll be taken care of,’ he said patiently. ‘Goodbye, Rearden.’

He walked away across the yard leaving me leaning against the wall alone. My hands were sweating and my mouth was suddenly dry as I looked at the barbed wire on top of the exterior wall. God help me if I got snagged on that. I wiped my wet hands on my trousers and squatted down on my heels.

Slade was standing next to the chalk mark and he, too, was alone. Probably everyone had been warned to keep clear of us; they wouldn’t know why but they’d obey, especially if the warning had been given by the strong-arm boys. Accidents can be arranged, even in prison, and it’s awfully easy to get a broken arm, or worse.

Cosgrove was talking to Paddy and they appeared to be enjoying a huge joke. I hoped the joke wasn’t on me. I was taking a hell of a lot on faith, but if Cossie was conning me—if he was pulling a practical joke—I’d have his lights for a necktie. The prison wouldn’t be big enough for both of us. But I looked across at Slade and knew, deep in my bones, that this was the real thing.

There were four screws in the yard, walking up and down with set, expressionless faces. And I knew there were two more watching from the high windows above my head. From there they could see into the street outside the exterior wall. God in heaven, surely they’d ring the alarm as soon as they saw that mechanical lift drive into the street. They couldn’t be as stupid as all that.

The minutes went by. I found myself losing track of time. Fifteen minutes had already gone by—or was it only five? Again I could feel the sweat on the palms of my hands, and again I rubbed them dry. If I had to jump for a rope I didn’t want any chance of slipping.

I looked at Cosgrove again. He was standing with his head cocked on one side listening to what Paddy had to say, and I saw him flick an eye towards me before he burst into a guffaw of laughter and slapped Paddy on the back.

I didn’t see him give the signal but suddenly there were raised voices at the other end of the yard, so perhaps the slap on Paddy’s back had been the signal. I got to my feet and began to walk slowly forward as though hypnotized by that distant chalk mark. Slade pushed himself away from the wall and came forward, hobbling on his sticks.

The men all around me were looking towards the disturbance which had grown noisier. Some of the prisoners were running in that direction and the screws had begun to converge on the fight. I glanced to my right and saw Hudson, the senior screw, who had apparently sprung from nowhere, making his way across the yard. He wasn’t running but walking at a smart pace, and he was on a collision course with me.

Something astonishing happened behind. There was a sharp crack, like a minor explosion, and a billow of dense, white smoke erupted from the ground. I kept going but Hudson turned and stared. There were more explosions in the yard and the smoke grew thick and heavy. Somebody was being liberal with the smoke bombs that were being tossed over the wall.

Hudson was now behind me, and I heard his anguished bellow. ‘Escape! Escape! Sound the alarm.’

Frantically he blew on his whistle but I kept going to where Slade was waiting. His face was set in lines of strain and as I approached he said urgently, ‘Where the hell is that damned contraption?’

I looked up and saw it coming over through the wreaths of smoke, looming over the wall like the head and neck of a prehistoric monster with slimy weeds dripping from its jaws. As it dipped down I saw that the weeds were four knotted ropes dangling from the platform on which stood a man who was, so help me, talking into a telephone.

I bent down. ‘Come on, Slade; up you go!’

He dropped his sticks as I heaved him up and he made a grab at one of the ropes as it came within reach. He was no lightweight and it was not easy for me to hold him up. He caught on to the rope and I was thankful when his weight eased from me.

The man on the platform was looking down at us and when he saw that Slade had a secure hold he spoke urgently into the telephone and the platform began to rise. The only trouble about that was it was leaving me behind. I made a frantic leap and grasped the last knot on the same rope that Slade was climbing. He was going up fast but his legs were flailing about and he caught me under the jaw with the tip of his shoes. I felt dizzy and nearly let go but managed to tighten my grip at the last moment.

Then somebody grabbed my ankle and I looked down and saw it was Hudson, his face contorted with effort. The man had a grip like iron so I lifted my other leg and booted him in the face. I was learning from Slade already. He let go and tumbled to the ground which, by that time, seemed to be a long way down. I carried on up the rope, my shoulder muscles cracking, until I could grasp the edge of the platform.

Slade was sprawled on the steel floor, gasping with the effort he had made, and the man with the telephone bent down. ‘Stay there,’ he said. ‘You’ll be all right.’ He spoke into the mouthpiece again.

I looked down and saw the barbed wire apparently moving away underneath as the great articulated arm swept me over the wall. Then it began to drop and the man bent down again, directing his words at both of us. ‘Do exactly as I do,’ he said calmly.

We were swept dizzily over the street and then stopped dead. A small open delivery truck came from nowhere and pulled up beneath the platform. The man swung over the railings of the platform and dropped lightly into the back of
the truck and I thankfully let go of the rope and followed him. Slade came after and fell on top of me and I cursed him, but then he was thrown off me by a sudden surge of acceleration as the little truck took off and went round the first corner with a squeal of tyres.

I looked back along the street and saw the big cherry-picker move ponderously into view and the great arm fell forward, completely blocking the street. Men tumbled from the cab and ran, and then we turned another corner and I saw no more of that.

Slade leaned against the side of the truck with his head lolling on one side. His face was grey and he seemed thoroughly exhausted. I remembered that he had been in hospital not long before. The man with us thumped his elbow into my ribs. ‘Pay attention!’ he said sharply. ‘You’ll be transferring into a little black mini-van. Get ready to move.’