Luke Delaney - The Network

‘Stay close to me and the others,’ Conway warned him. ‘The exercise yard can be a dangerous place. The screws should have cleared it of the other prisoners, the ones who think themselves better than us, but you can never trust the screws fully.’ He made no effort to avoid being heard by the nearby prison guards. ‘You never know who may have bribed them to leave a door unlocked here or a window open there.’

‘Alright, Conway,’ the nearest guard said. ‘That’s enough of that nonsense.’

Conway ignored him. ‘You see, we’re big prizes. If one of them can in some way injure one of us, or worse, then they’ll become quite a star in their pathetic little world. So keep your eyes open and stay close.’

‘I will,’ Sean promised. ‘Thanks.’

The column concertinaed together as they reached the holding pen and waited for the lead guard to select a single key from the huge bunch attached to his waistband and open the door, bumping and squeezing together as they passed through the narrow entrance. Sean tried to shrug the tension from his shoulders, readying himself for the attack on Conway he knew was coming, but couldn’t warn him about as they stood huddled together like a nervous flock of sheep, those on the outskirts of the human herd more exposed and therefore more frightened. If the pre-arranged scenario went well, Sean’s cover would be truly cemented.

The same guard took another key from the huge bunch and opened the door to the exercise yard, his head peeping inside before swinging back into the holding area. ‘Clear,’ he shouted to his colleagues before addressing the prisoners the main population of inmates called ‘the Lepers’. ‘Alright you lot, it’s all yours. In you go. You only get an hour a week so make it count.’ They started to move through the door into the yard, the stronger, dominant prisoners pushing the lowest ranking through first, so that they would trigger any planned attack and bear the consequences. But as no such assault came the men began to relax, flowing more freely through the oblong entrance.

‘Looks like we’re all safe today,’ Conway told Sean, but he wasn’t listening. He followed Conway’s two lead minders through the narrow doorway, tensing the muscles in his legs, ready to act quickly and decisively when the ambush came. They walked out into the sunlight, and noise and bedlam immediately broke out behind them. A man at least thirty pounds heavier than Sean burst from behind the open door, a home-fashioned prison blade glinting in his hand as he pushed past the two rearguard minders and lunged for Conway.

‘Die you fucking nonce,’ the big man screamed, thrusting the blade towards Conway’s chest, searching for his heart or at least a lung. But the blade never reached its target. Sean deflected the assailant’s arm upwards and away with his own forearm before sweeping his legs from under him with a low kick — grabbing the hand holding the knife before the man had even hit the floor, twisting and grinding his wrist until the knife fell to the floor and Sean kicked it away. Within seconds the guards took over the struggle, separating Sean from the assailant, just as the Head Prison Officer arrived at the scene barking questions and orders.

‘What the fuck’s going on here?’ he yelled.

‘One of the main population’s had a go, guv’nor,’ the guard who’d missed the attacker hiding behind the door explained.

‘What the fuck was he doing in the exercise yard?’

‘He must have been hiding behind the door,’ the guard answered.

‘Didn’t you check to see if it was clear?’

‘I must have missed him. Sorry.’

‘Sorry? Fuck me, he could have killed the cunt. Get him to bloody solitary. I’ll deal with him later,’ the Chief bawled, ‘and I’ll deal with you later too,’ he warned the unlucky guard. ‘Now get these men back to their wing — everybody on lock-down until I find out what the fuck’s going on.’

‘Alright, you heard the man,’ the hapless guard said, venting his frustration on the prisoners he hated almost as much as the main population did. If he had it his way they would all be hanged. He sang a little prison song in his head. Sex case. Sex case — hang him, hang him, hang him . ‘Move it — the lot of you — back to the wing.’

Conway stuck close to Sean as they filtered back inside. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered so no one else could hear.

‘I just reacted. That’s all.’

‘That wasn’t just a reaction,’ Conway insisted, making Sean’s already pounding heart skip a beat, ‘that was training. So the question is,’ What does he know? What does he know? ‘where did you learn to fight like that?’

‘In the army,’ he explained, glad of some truth in Cramer’s background that would check out if Conway looked into it. ‘I did four years in the Green Jackets before they objected to some of my personal tastes. I was part of the judo team.’

‘Lucky for me,’ Conway said, ‘and maybe lucky for you too.’

Later that day Sean sat in the communal area pretending to read a newspaper, the printed words little more than black dots in front of his eyes as he dreamed about the day he’d walk through the front gate of the prison and stroll down Trinity Road to Wandsworth Old Town and the train station. Maybe he’d even walk a little further and take a look at the Thames from Wandsworth Bridge — grab a pint and lunch before heading to the flat in Archway, North London that Cramer had been renting before his demise — rent that was now being discreetly paid by the Receiver for the Metropolitan Police. The flat would be Sean’s home for as long it took to gather enough evidence to convict Conway and the inner core of The Network, or until the operation failed and was cancelled. He dreamed of the long shower he’d take without being watched — always alert and ready to react. He’d stay away from any police stations and buildings until the operation was complete.

Sean felt Conway’s presence before he saw him, the unusual sight of the man alone making him both concerned and excited. Conway sat opposite him with a smile, but didn’t speak for minutes, staring at Sean as if he was making his final judgement on whether he could trust him, searching his face and studying any tiny body movements for any clues. Eventually he spoke.

‘I just wanted to thank you properly — for what you did in the exercise yard,’ Conway told him.

‘I was happy to help,’ Sean lied. ‘After all — we need to look out for each other — men like us.’

Conway licked his lips with the point of his tongue, lubricating his mouth before speaking potentially dangerous words. ‘Yes we do. But is that what you are — a man like me?’

‘I’m part of The Network,’ Sean told him, ‘like you.’

Conway snorted and sniffed a laugh, as if he was offended by Sean’s accusation. He leaned across the table before speaking in little more than a whisper. ‘The Network’s nothing — little more than an umbrella of protection — something simple to distract the police from what’s really important.’

‘And what’s that?’ Sean asked eagerly.

Conway leaned back slightly, smiling more broadly, but still speaking quietly even though no one was anywhere near them. ‘Tell me, have you ever heard of The Sanctum?’

‘Only rumours of its existence,’ he lied, remembering the numerous mentions made to The Sanctum in the intelligence file DS Chopra had made him study.

‘And what do the rumours say?’

‘That the material provided to The Network comes from a small group called The Sanctum. That they make the films themselves — always the same men making the films and … performing in them. They say no one is ever allowed to join unless they have been hand-picked and vetted by The Sanctum’s inner circle and no one knows who they are.’