Джеффри Арчер - Cat O'Nine Tales

‘Pete.’

‘Well, Pete goes on being as good as gold. Cleanest pad, working all hours, never swearing at no screws, never on report. Result? Twelve months later he’s back at Hollesley Bay open prison, with only nine months left to serve.’

‘And once he was back at Hollesley Bay, did he try to contact Karen?’

‘No, didn’t put in a request for a visit. In fact, never even mentioned her name.’

‘So what was his game?’ I asked, slipping into the prison jargon.

‘He only had one game all along, Jeff: he wanted to get himself transferred to the enhancement block, on the other side of the prison, didn’t he.’

‘I’ve lost you,’ I admitted.

‘All part of his master plan, wasn’t it? When you first arrive at Hollesley Bay, which, don’t forget, is an open nick, you’re allocated a room in one of the two main blocks.’

‘Are you?’

‘Yeah, north and south block. But if you get enhanced — another three more months of behaving like a saint — then they move you across to the enhancement block, which gives you even more privileges.’

‘Like what?’

‘You can have a visit from a mate every Saturday. Pete wasn’t interested. You can go home once a month on a Sunday — he’s still not interested. You can apply for a job outside of the prison during the week — still no interest, even though it would of given him a chance to pick up an extra bob or two before he’s released.’

‘Then why bother to earn all those privileges if you don’t plan to take advantage of them?’ I asked.

‘Weren’t part of Pete’s master plan, was it? Trouble with you, Jeff, is that you don’t think like a criminal.’

‘So why was Pete so keen to get himself transferred to the enhancement block?’

‘Good question at last, Jeff, but for that you’ll need a little background. Pete ’ad already worked out that over on the enhancement block they ’ad five screws on duty during the day, but only two at night, on account of the fact that if a prisoner reaches enhanced status he can be trusted, not to mention how short-staffed the prison service is. And don’t forget that, in an open nick, there are no cells, no bars, no keys and no perimeter walls, so anyone can abscond.’

‘So why don’t they?’ I asked.

‘Because not many cons who’ve made it to an open prison are that interested in escaping.’

‘Why not?’

‘Logic, isn’t it? They’re coming to the end of their sentence, and if they’re caught, and nine out of ten of the morons are, you’re sent straight back to a closed nick, with extra time added to your sentence. So forget it, it’s just not worth it. I remember a con called Dale. What a muppet he was. He only had three weeks left to serve, when he—’

‘Pete,’ I tried again.

‘You’re such an impatient bastard, Jeff, and it’s not as if you’re going anywhere. So where was I?’

‘Only two officers on duty in the enhancement block at night,’ I said, checking my notes.

‘Oh, yeah. But even on the enhancement block you have to report to the front office at seven in the morning, and then again at nine each night. Now Pete, as I told you, ’ad a job in the prison stores, handing out clothes to the new cons, and supplying laundry once a week for the regulars, so the screws always knew where he was, which was also part of Pete’s plan. But if he hadn’t reported to the front office at seven in the morning and then again at nine at night, he would have been put on report, which would have meant he’d be sent back to north block with all his privileges removed. So Pete never once misses a roll call, his cell was always spick and span, and his light is always out long before eleven.’

‘All part of Pete’s master plan?’

‘You catch on fast,’ said Mick. ‘But then Pete came up against an obstacle — that the right word, Jeff?’ I nodded, not wishing to interrupt his flow. ‘During the night, one of the screws would walk round the block at one o’clock and then return again at four in the morning, to check that every con was in bed and asleep. All the screw has to do is pull back the curtain on the outside of the door, look through the glass panel and shine his torch on the bed to make sure the con is snoring away. Have I ever told you about the con who was caught in his room, with a—’

‘Pete,’ I said, not even looking up at Mick.

‘Pete would lay awake at night until the first screw came round at one o’clock to make sure he was in his room. The screw lifts the curtain, shines the torch on his bed and then disappears. Pete would then go back to sleep, but he always set his alarm for ten to four when he’d carry out the same routine. A different screw always turns up at four to check you’re still in bed. It took Pete just over a month to work out that there were two screws, Mr Chambers and Mr Davis, who didn’t bother to make the nightly rounds and check everyone was in bed. Chambers used to fall asleep and Davis couldn’t be dragged away from the TV. After that, all Pete had to do was wait until the two of them were on duty the same night.’

With only about six weeks to go before Pete was due to be released, he returned to the enhancement block after work to find that Chambers and Davis were the duty officers that night. When Pete signed the roll-call sheet at nine, Mr Chambers was already watching a football match on TV, and Mr Davis had his feet up on the table drinking a Coke and reading the sports pages of the Sun. Pete went up to his room, watched TV till just after ten, and then turned off his light. He got into bed and pulled the blanket over him, but kept on his tracksuit and trainers. He waited until a few minutes after one before he crept out into the corridor and checked to make sure no one was around — not a sign of Chambers or Davis. He then went to the end of the corridor, opened the fire-escape door, and disappeared down the back stairs, leaving a wedge of paper in the door, before he set off on an eight-mile run into Woodbridge.

No one can be sure when Pete got back that night, but he reported into the office as usual at seven the next morning. Mr Chambers ticked off his name. When Pete glanced down at the screws clipboard, all four of his roll-call columns — nine, one, four and seven — had a tick in every box. Pete had breakfast in the canteen before reporting to the stores for work.

‘So he got away with it?’

‘Not quite,’ said Mick. ‘Later that morning the cops turn up in numbers and begin crawling all over the place, but they’re only looking for one man. They end up in the stores, arrest Pete and haul him off to Woodbridge nick for questioning. They interrogate him for hours about the deaths of Brian Powell and Karen Slater, both found strangled in their bed. Rumour has it that they were having it off at the time. Pete stuck to the same line: “Can’t have been me, guv. I was banged up in prison at the time. You only have to ask Mr Chambers and Mr Davis, the officers who were on duty that night.” The copper in charge of the case visited the enhancement block and checked the roll-call sheet. Brian and the tart were strangled some time between three and five, according to the police doctor, so if Chambers saw Pete asleep in bed at four, he couldn’t have been in Woodbridge at the same time, could he? Logic, isn’t it?

‘An independent inquiry was set up by the Home Office. Chambers and Davis both confirmed that they’d checked every prisoner at one o’clock and then again at four, and on both occasions Pete had been asleep in his room. Several of the other cons were only too happy to appear in front of the inquiry and confirm they’d been woken by the flashlight, when Chambers and Davis did their rounds. This only strengthened Pete’s defence. So the inquiry concluded that Pete must have been in his bed at one o’clock and four o’clock on the night in question, so he couldn’t have committed the murders.’