Brian Freemantle - The Blind Run

Sir Alistair Wilson stood – because it was more comfortable for him to stand, although Charlie didn’t know that – to the left of the governor, right against the window, half-perched upon the radiator. To Armitrage’s right was the deputy governor, Collis, and deferentially next to him was the chief prison officer, whose name was Dexter. One of the bastards.

Armitrage had made a concession by approaching Wilson and he knew it and everyone else in the room knew it and he tried to cover the weakness by immediately imposing his control over the meeting, nodding curtly towards Charlie as if it were an order to stop. He said, ‘I don’t think you can have any idea what has been involved in creating this meeting. Other departments, apart from the Home Office, have had to be involved and Sir Alistair here…’ the man paused, turning his head towards the Director. ‘Sir Alistair has shown a very great public attitude by coming here, at such short notice. His attendance was your condition, Muffin. And it is one that I have deferred to. If, having heard what you have to say, I conclude that this whole episode was the farcical invention I fear it to be, I shall have you charged before visiting magistrates with secreting a weapon, with intent to facilitate an escape and make a prosecution plea that an additional sentence is imposed upon you. Further I shall endorse your file against any parole consideration, for as long as regulations permit such suspension.’

Fuck you, thought Charlie. He was home. Home and dry. Steady, he thought, in immediate warning. He’d considered he had a deal before with Wilson and the bastard had reneged upon it.

‘All right,’ said Armitrage, still attempting to appear forceful. ‘What is it?’

Charlie talked not to the governor but to Wilson. ‘What about our deal?’ he demanded.

‘What deal?’

Charlie looked around the other assembled men. ‘You want me to talk about it here, like this?’

‘What deal?’ repeated Wilson.

‘I could have run, in Italy,’ reminded Charlie. ‘I knew you’d found me but I could still have run. But I didn’t. Because I knew our own ambassador there had gone over to the Russians I stayed and did everything you wanted me to, so you could not only stop it but reverse it, to try to create as much harm as you could…’

‘Which was all set out at your trial,’ interrupted the Director.

‘Bullshit!’ rejected Charlie. ‘It wasn’t set out, like you say it was. It was mentioned, almost in bloody passing. But the deal was that you’d make sure the judge understood. That there would be a consideration, not the maximum sodding sentence possible. And that after the sentence, you’d see I got out…!’ Charlie’s anger grew, as he remembered the promises Wilson had made to him. ‘Didn’t you?’ he said, careless of the rise in his voice. ‘ Didn’t you?’

‘I will not have Sir Alistair interrogated!’ broke in Armitrage. ‘Any more than I will tolerate any longer this ridiculous charade.’

‘It’s all right,’ placated Wilson, from behind the governor. To Charlie he said, ‘Approaches were made to the judge. I could only give you undertakings, not guarantees. He decided that what you did in Italy was a very small mitigation against the damage you did. There was no way I could prevent that.’

‘What about getting me out, afterwards?’ persisted Charlie.

It was Armitrage, not the Director, who responded. ‘Sir Alistair has been in contact both with the Home Office and myself, long before today, seeking the earliest parole opportunity for you,’ said the Governor. ‘It was because of that earlier contact that I was able to get into touch so quickly. And why Sir Alistair responded, with matching speed.’

‘Oh,’ said Charlie, momentarily deflated.

‘There’s only so much I can do, to circumvent the existing system,’ said Wilson. ‘There’s a consideration hearing in six months’ time. I’ve already indicated I’ll support any parole application you make, even though, of course, you’ll have to serve the required minimum, even if that parole is granted.’

‘I didn’t know,’ said Charlie.

‘There’s no way you could,’ said Wilson. He added, ‘Or should.’

‘Whatever Sir Alistair intended doing, I shall still block it if all this is a nonsense,’ repeated Armitrage.

He only had their word – Wilson’s word – Charlie realised, recovering. It could all be a bunch of lies. ‘I want another deal,’ he said. ‘This time an absolute guarantee that in exchange for what I’m going to tell you I get out. Get out immediately and I don’t care about existing systems or regulations or parole boards or whatever. I just want to get out.’

‘I won’t bargain with you,’ refused Wilson, quietly calm in face of Charlie’s uncertain control. ‘Certainly not blind. If what you’ve got to tell me is genuine then I’ll make sure it is brought fully before the parole application.’

‘Like you did before the judge!’

‘I told you I couldn’t anticipate his reaction.’

‘Any more than you can anticipate that of the parole committee,’ said Charlie. He decided he had nothing to lose: and that he’d never get such an opportunity again. ‘A deal,’ he insisted. ‘Otherwise you’re all going to look bloody fools. And that’s something I can guarantee.’

Armitrage half turned, so that he could see Wilson. He indicated with his finger something written on a file sheet that Charlie had been unaware of, on the desk in front of the governor.

‘I will guarantee you a transfer to an open prison,’ said the Director. ‘Further, I will guarantee a personal intervention when the parole is considered in six months’ time and I know the governor will support me in that intervention…’ Wilson hesitated. ‘But let’s get one thing straight,’ he went on. ‘So far I haven’t got the slightest indication why I’ve bothered to come all the way here, apart from my interest of which, until today, you were unaware. And that interest is rapidly diminishing. If, as the governor has said, it’s all been a wild goose chase then any help I might have considered giving you ends. You can stay here and rot, like the judge decided you should.’

He was boxed in, Charlie realised. And they realised it too. Belatedly invoking the objectivity, Charlie supposed he was lucky to have got this far. Wilson had made a concession, bothering to come. So maybe the interest was genuine. An open prison would be like heaven, after this. And he’d get parole, for the information he had.

‘All right,’ conceded Charlie. And then he told them, in detail, gaining a passing satisfaction from the reaction from Dexter, one of the stupid sods who’d been impressed by Sampson.

There were several moments of silence after Charlie finished. It was Wilson who spoke first. ‘What luck,’ said the Director. ‘What incredible, fortuitous luck.’

Wilson took complete charge, appearing reluctant even for Armitrage to remain in the room, finally relenting only after going into the deputy governor’s office to make a series of telephone calls. He told the prison officers escorting Charlie to remain unseen in an ante-room, so that stories would not spread throughout the prison that Charlie was unaccompanied in the governor’s office, apart from some outside stranger, but lectured them as well as the deputy governor and the chief prison officer before dismissing them that as government employees they were bound by the Official Secrets Act. He added the heavy warning that if anything were to leak of what they had heard that evening in the office he would personally ensure a prosecution and press for a term of imprisonment. Charlie wondered where the Director had learned that becoming a prisoner, once having been a screw, was a prison officer’s biggest fear.