The Freedom Trap

Another time Johnny said, ‘Be careful who you talk to in here. I wouldn’t trust a bloody soul myself.’

‘Even you?’

He chuckled. ‘Especially me, mate. But seriously, watch out for Simpson – he’s a proper arse-creeper. If you find him hanging around, clip his bloody earhole.’

He pointed out others I should beware of, and some of them surprised me. ‘That gang would peach on anyone if they thought it would get them in good with the Governor so he’ll put in a good word to the Review Board. But they’re wasting their time; he’s too fly for them. He knows what goes on in here without those narks helping him.’

Johnny was philosophical about doing time. To him, his work was his profession and prison an occupational hazard. ‘I’ve done two sleeps and a cut,’ he said. ‘Next time it’ll be a stretch.’

‘Aren’t you worried about that?’

‘A bit,’ he admitted. Like an economist discussing the effect of government legislation on industrial activity he began to analyse the situation. ‘It’s these bloody do-gooders,’ he said. ‘They’ve knocked out capital punishment and they’ve got to put something in its place. So you get long terms for murderers. But a bloke serving a long term doesn’t like it and wants to get out, so they class him as a high risk.’

He grinned. ‘And they’ve got to find a special place to put him. Nicks like this are no good – you could get out of here with a bent pin – so they’re building high-risk nicks special like. But when you’ve got a place like that there aren’t enough killers to fill it – there’s a bit of space going to waste – so they begin to get a bit harder on the sentences. That’s where you felt the draught, chum.’

I said, ‘But why put me in here to do my bird if it isn’t safe?’

‘Because the special nicks aren’t ready yet. You wait until they’ve built those places on the Isle of Wight that Mount-batten’s been going for. You’ll be whizzed out of here in no time. In the meantime they spread you high-risk blokes around thin, a few in each nick, so you can be watched easy.’

I looked around ‘C’ Hall. ‘If this place is so easy to get out of why haven’t you tried?’

He looked at me incredulously. ‘Think I’m a mug, mate? I’m only doing a cut, and that means I’m out of here in just over two years from start to finish – if I don’t lose me temper and clobber that bastard, Hudson. You got no idea what it’s like when you go over the wall and you know that every bluebottle in England is looking for you. It ain’t worth it, chum; not with all those bloody dogs. They use helicopters, too, and radio. It’s like a bloody army exercise.’

He tapped my arm. ‘Could be different for you, though. You ain’t got as much to lose. But it wouldn’t be as easy for you to go over the wall as it would be for me, ‘cause they’re watching you all the time. They’re on to you, mate. And if you did get over the wall you’d get nowhere without an organization.’

That sounded interesting. ‘Organization! What organization?’

‘You got to have planning on the outside,’ said Johnny. ‘You don’t want to be like those mugs who find themselves on the Moor running in circles and eating raw turnip and listening for the dogs.’ He shuddered slightly. ‘Those bloody dogs! No, you got to have an organization that’ll get you clean away. How do you suppose Wilson, Biggs, and the others did it?’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’ll buy it. How did they get away?’

He rubbed the side of his nose. ‘Like I said – organization and outside planning. But it takes the shekels; you got to have a lot of money.’ He looked around to see if there was anyone within earshot, and lowered his voice. ‘You ever hear of the Scarperers?’

‘Scarperers?’ I shook my head. ‘Never heard of them.’

‘Well, it’s only a rumour and I could be wrong, but the griff is that there’s a mob specially set up for it – helping you long-term blokes.’ He chuckled. ‘Could call it a new kind of crime. But you got to have the bees.’

That didn’t need much working out; the bees and honey – the money. ‘How do I contact them?’

‘You don’t,’ said Johnny bluntly. ‘They contact you. This is a very exclusive mob; very picky and choosy. But I hear on the grapevine that they do a guaranteed job – you get clear away or no pay – barring expenses. Course, they don’t bother about blokes like me because they know it ain’t worth me while, but you could be different.’

I hesitated. ‘Johnny, this isn’t my country and I don’t know the ropes. I was in England for less than a week before I was picked up. But if you put it out on the grapevine that there’s a bloke in this nick who could do with a bit of help it might do me some good. No names, mind!’

‘Think I’m a mug?’ he asked. ‘No names it is.’ He looked at me speculatively. ‘Can’t say that I blame you, chum. Twenty years’ bird would send me round the twist. Trouble with you is that you didn’t cough up nicely when asked; you slapped ’em in the face with it and they didn’t like it.’

He sighed heavily. ‘As I said, next time I’m up before the beak it’ll be a stretch. Time was when I could reckon on five or seven years, but that was before the beaks got bloody-minded. Now I don’t know what they’ll do – could be ten, twelve or even fifteen years’ bird. I don’t know if I could do fifteen years. It unsettles a man, it really does, not having a dependable stretch to rely on.’

I said, ‘Maybe you’d better call it a day when you get out of here.’

‘What else can I do?’ he said despondently. ‘I’m not brass-faced enough to go on the con; besides, I ain’t got the voice – you need to be la-di-da for that. And I’m too old to learn how to dip. And I hates the protection bit – too softhearted to beat anybody up. No, I’m an inside man – up the old drainpipe, that’s me.’

‘You could turn honest,’ I suggested.

He looked at me incredulously. ‘That’s for peasants. Can you see me as a nine-to-five? Can you see me working in the corner garage getting me hands black?’ He was silent for a while. ‘Not that I’m relying