Chris Ryan - Osama

‘Who sent you?’

She blinked. ‘I told you, I’ve been assigned to your—’

Joe made an impatient tutting sound. Why the fuck should he trust this woman? Why should he trust anyone ?

‘I want to go back to my cell,’ he said.

‘You can’t do that. You’re looking at life without parole, Sergeant Mansfield. As your designated legal counsel I’m obliged to advise you that we request a full psychiatric evaluation, and that we do it immediately…’

‘ Shut up! ’ Joe roared at her. ‘ Just fucking shut up! ’

He could feel himself losing it, feel his whole body shaking with anger.

He could see Ricky, looking at him across the minefield… ? Caitlin’s face as the knife entered…

He was on his feet, banging on the door with his fists, vaguely aware that the woman behind him was shouting for help.

The guards were there… barking at him… restraining him…

And ten minutes later Joe was back in his cell, trembling, his breath jerky, cold sweat soaking his body.

Hunter stared at him like he was a lunatic. He was sitting cross-legged on the top bunk. The TV was on. Some fucking Noel Edmonds game show. Behind him, Joe heard the sound of a key in the cell door. He kept his back to the door, breathing deeply, trying to regain control of himself.

‘Lock-up till twelve-thirty, fella,’ Hunter said nervously. Joe stepped forward and switched off the TV. No complaint. Hunter clearly knew what was good for him. Joe lay on the bottom bunk. Perhaps emboldened by the fact that Joe hadn’t threatened violence, he spoke again. ‘I can sell you some snout,’ he said. His voice had taken on a wheedling tone. ‘Pay me back when you get—’

‘What’s that?’

A huge din had erupted outside. Shouting. Clattering. Joe jumped up and strode towards the window. He opened it – it was grimy and smeared – and looked through the bars onto the exercise yard. Approximately twenty inmates had walked out into it. Without exception they had their hands in their pockets and their heads down. None of them spoke to anyone else, and everyone ignored the din. It came, so far as Joe could tell, from the windows that overlooked the exercise yard, of which there had to be almost fifty. He could see hands emerging from the windows, grabbing the bars and rattling them. Amid the chaos of shouting, he heard two words repeated: ‘beast’ and ‘nonce’.

‘I saw you talking to Finch.’ Hunter’s voice was slightly strained, as if he wanted to distract Joe from what was going on outside. Joe closed the window – the noise deadened slightly – and turned back to him.

‘Who’s Finch?’ he demanded.

‘He’s from Northern Ireland.’

Joe remembered the man in the breakfast queue.

‘Give you a word of advice for free?’ said Hunter.

‘What?’

‘Finch thinks he’s top dog. Least, he wants other people to think that. But he can’t touch Hennessey. Don’t matter where he is…’

‘Who the fuck’s Hennessey?’

‘He’s in the Seg Wing,’ Hunter said. ‘Solitary. Often is. Reckon he prefers it that way. Don’t stop him running the place.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You think the screws are in charge here?’ Hunter snorted dismissively. ‘That’s bullshit. Hennessey’s in charge. Ain’t afraid of nothing or nobody. Up to his eyes in drugs and killings when he was on the outside. Done three murders since he’s been banged up. Knows he ain’t never getting out.’

‘Who did he kill?’

‘Scoobies wouldn’t give him his own cell up in Hull when he got banged up. Bumped his cellmate off first night he was in. Smashed the bloke’s skull against the wall, that’s what I heard. Done it another two times before they give him his own room. Fucking stupid, some of these screws, if you ask me. Anyway, what Hennessey says goes. Even the scoobies do what he tells them, and there ain’t a single inmate won’t follow his orders. Except Finch and his crew, of course. But they’ll learn. He’s a clever bastard, Hennessey, on top of everything else. Sly. Knows how to make things work for himself.’

Another pause. Hunter started examining his fingernails.

‘Does he get visitors?’ The more information Joe could get on this Hennessey, the better.

‘Why you so interested?’

Joe gave him a dangerous look.

‘All right, all right,’ Hunter said quickly. ‘There’s a woman, least that’s what I heard. Comes in once a month. Scoobies let them hook up, dunno where.’

‘Know her name?’

‘No.’

‘Anyone else get the same treatment?’

Hunter shook his head. ‘Special privileges. Word is, the only thing that’s stopping Hennessey’s lot rioting is his say-so. Take away his privileges…’ He made a sign with his hands like a bomb going off. ‘Like I say, clever bastard. Knows how to fix things. Course,’ he added quietly, ‘it’s because of Hennessey that I’m not in the Seg Wing with the others.’

‘What others?’

‘The others that are… in here for the same as me.’

‘The sex cases?’

Another sniff. ‘If that’s what you want to call us. Got the scoobies in his pocket, ain’t he? Knows he’ll never get us all out into the general prison population, so he’s doing us one by one. Last fella they done in the showers. Cut him to ribbons, his dick and all. Broke both his arms. Didn’t kill him, though. Dunno why. Young lad. Nice fella.’ He sniffed again. ‘I’m next. They already had a go, didn’t they?’

‘The train tracks on your neck?’

‘You been eyeing me up?’

Joe immediately stepped forward and grabbed the disgusting little nonce by his hair. Hunter squealed like a frightened girl. ‘What did they use?’ Joe hissed.

‘A shiv.’

‘What the fuck’s a shiv?’

‘A weapon,’ the nonce babbled. ‘Home-made. The block’s full of them…’

Joe let go of his hair in disgust. ‘How did they make it?’ he demanded.

‘The one that done me? I think it was a toothbrush they used. Two razor blades superglued to the end.’ Hunter scrambled up into a kneeling position, then made a swiping gesture with his right hand. His eye burned brightly as he did it, but when his imaginary slice was complete, he shuddered and put his fingers to his neck, as though reliving the pain. ‘But they done me with a power cord off the telly once, too. Blades tied to it.’ He made a whipping gesture to explain how that worked. A frown crossed his face. ‘Reckon they’re playing with me. You know, like cats and mice.’

‘You got a shiv of your own?’

Hunter shook his head timidly. ‘The scoobies don’t want me to defend myself,’ he said. ‘They search me more than the others.’ But Joe had immediately noticed the way his eyes darted towards the wall behind him. He looked over his shoulder, to see Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus grinning back. Joe marched over to the posters and was about to rip them from the wall, when Hunter spoke quietly.

‘Don’t do that, fella…’

Joe’s hand stopped inches from the top of Justin Bieber’s gay haircut. Hunter looked anxiously over at the locked door, then carefully peeled back the Blu-tack fixing the bottom corner of Miley Cyrus to the wall so that Joe could see the back of the poster. There were two strips of masking tape, each about two inches long, stuck to the shiny paper. Underneath each strip, Joe could see the outline of a razor blade. ‘I won’t go to the showers,’ he admitted. ‘I wash in here. Reckon this is where they’ll try to do me, when the time comes.’

Hunter lowered the poster and stuck the Blu-tack to the wall again. He waddled back to his ladder and climbed up into the top bunk. His lips spread, fat and toad-like, as he watched Joe return to his own bunk.