A Question Of Honour: A Harry Royle Thriller (16 page)

"Harry, listen, we don't have much time. The first thing for you to be aware of is that your plans are no good. You see I have a plan of my own."

With this news, Harry started to stand up. Preston leaned over and grabbed Harry by the shoulders.

"Look, we're on the same side. Listen to me, I have a plan that will work perfectly and will not involve you sneaking and hiding in food bins or sacks of clothes."

Royle was now more than interested.

The warder continued.

"Now I want you to pretend to go to sleep and wait for my signal. I'll come to get you in the morning. It'll be about half past five, you'll need to do just as I say and move very quickly, as we'll have very little time if you are to get out and I'm to remain free from suspicion."

Without another word, Preston left the cell and locked the door again. Harry's body filled with nervous tension as he pulled up the rough blanket and waited. Prisons like hospitals are never quiet at night but are instead filled with noise. Not the full sounds of the daylight world, but the oddly isolated noises which punch through the quiet moments. Shouts and cries filling the night air. And footsteps, always walking feet. Whether nurses or prison warders, the sound is the same, an odd echo rising and falling in pitch. Harry Royle tried in vain to strain his ears in order to separate the different noises without success. After waiting for hours, he heard a light footfall directly outside and the tell-tale click of a key in the lock. Preston came into the cell very quickly and threw a bag on the bed. Harry was sitting up and swinging his legs off the bed. Preston spoke quickly.

"Harry, put these on and for both of our sakes be as quick as you can and do try and look smart."

Harry opened the bag and pulled out a uniform, it was a duplicate to the one Preston was wearing. He put it on as quickly as possible and was ready in no time at all. Preston looked at him surprised.

Royle laughed quietly.

"You forget I was a Guardsman."

He said this as he pulled down his cap in guardsman's style, with the peak pulled down to cover his eyes.

"You know this might just work. Follow me and don't speak, oh, take these, I've numbered them in the order you'll use them. Right, let's go. And good luck."

"I won't forget this Preston."

The two men went quickly into the corridor. Preston walked just slightly ahead until they reached the end of the landing and then reaching back, he pulled Royle to the side and opening a door, shoved him through it. Preston joined him in the corridor and whispered a final instruction to him.

"Give me a few minutes and then follow this corridor till the end, then take the door on the left using key one. Down the steps and unlock the next with key two. You must lock each door behind you. After locking the second door, walk out and try to act normal, you'll be seen by two gate guards, the rest is up to you. If you make it outside, lose the keys somewhere safe, for both of our sakes."

Without another word, the two men shook hands and parted. Preston retraced his steps and Harry heard the door lock once more. Now he knew he was on his own. He waited and tried to give the warder as much time as he could.

Robert Preston ran through the corridors, hoping that he wouldn't encounter anyone else. He reached his destination without any trouble and unlocking an office door, walked inside, closing it behind him. Inside the room sat a very flushed young warder sitting clutching his stomach and groaning, his face was white and he was sweating heavily. Robert Preston addressed the other officer.

"Right Holland I've covered for you, now if you come with me, I can let you out through the side gate. I'll say you left hale and hearty and you'll not lose a penny and you'll have all night to sleep this bug off. Don't worry I'll cover the rest of your shift for you.

The man looked up.

"Thank you, Robert, this is very kind of you. I don't know what came over me, I've never had the runs like this in my life."

Without another word, Preston led Holland out of the prison through a side gate which was rarely used and which was off limits to all junior staff. After the other officer had left, Preston walked back through and locked up using the large padlock that secured the unused entrance. Holland had come down with a mysterious bout of stomach sickness, courtesy of a bottle of syrup of figs liberally poured into his coffee. Preston felt sorry for him, but the lad had served a greater good and would keep quiet as he would feel he was the one that would be in trouble should anyone find out he was absent from his post when a prisoner escaped.

Harry Royle had waited as long as he dared, he then walked at a steady pace to the first door. He put the key in the lock and holding his breath, turned it, he was through. He locked it behind him and quickly moved to the next door. He slowly pushed key number two home and turned it in the lock. Click and he was through the second door. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. Pushing his shoulders back, he strode out towards the main gates. As he approached them, he heard a voice from over to his right.

"Hey, Preston hope you didn't work that new lad too hard."

Without turning or looking in the direction of the voice, Harry raised an arm and gave a ‘give over' wave towards the distant warder. He heard a laugh behind him.

The main gates opened up before him. He walked through and heard them lock again. He was free. He had only walked a little way from the prison when he heard an engine approaching at speed. He fought the urge to run and instead stood his ground and waited. The car pulled up and a nervous Devon looked out from the opened door.

"Would you like a lift, officer?"

Harry laughed and got in. The car took off fast enough to make space between themselves and the prison, but not fast enough to arouse suspicion. After driving for a short time, Devon Jones pulled up in a quiet street behind a park. Royle recognised it as Alexander Park and sensed the irony. He knew how close he was to Pete and the others, but he'd have to leave them until another time, they could wait. Devon pushed some papers into his hand and he looked down at them.

"What's all this?"

Jones smiled.

"I forgot you've been out of circulation. There happens to be a war on mate. You'll need these. I'll take you through them quickly and then you can run me to the station. That Susan Brown's a nice girl; she could help you if you get stuck."

"Susan? She won't help me."

"Yes she will, I've spoken to her. But don't get any romantic ideas, she's saving all that for Bill, so she tells me."

They both smiled at the strangeness of the conversation. Devon continued to explain the paperwork to his friend.

"Identity card in the name of Peter Manley, Medical card and insurance card, and driving licence. Plus a letter from a lady to Peter, full of promise and romance, well on paper anyway, that one's a present from Jenny. Money, not too much, but enough. Quite a bit really, Johnny insisted on that. He wanted to give you a lot more, but I didn't want it looking odd if you got picked up. Take off the cap, tie and overcoat. Here take my coat. I can't afford to be hatless, not being my colour, you know what it's like. I need to get a train sharpish. So if you can run me to the station and I think you can take it from there. I would do more, but since I've been seen around Johnny and his club and contacts, the coppers could well have followed me. I would get an evening train if I were you, any trouble and you could use the car, but it's not kosher, one of Johnny's last minute contributions. And on second thoughts it might be kinder to leave Susan out of things, she's a nice kid."

"You've done more than enough, above and beyond. I'll be fine, let's get you to your train and I'll see you back home very soon. You're right about Susan, she deserves to be happy."

Royle pocketed the papers and repeated his new cover name over and over to himself. Jones started the car and headed onto the main road.

"I imagine things are very different these days?"

Devon laughed.

"You're joking mate. This war is not going over well at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Well apart from the BBC, who think things will be jolly good, so long as we all pull together and support those in power above us, like good children. People are not fools Harry. Everyone I know is either bored with this so-called war or angry that the government didn't fight harder for the peace."

"But isn't that just Commies and Conchies?"

"No, I'm talking Joe public. As for us, it's easier than it ever was, not enough coppers on the streets. These days things are pretty lax. Hope they stay that way."

They passed the rest of the journey with small talk. Devon wanted his new position at the White Cat to come as a complete surprise to his friend, so said nothing of his new elevation to band leader. They shook hands and as Jones got out at the station, Harry slid into the driving seat. Devon took off his watch and handed it to Harry. Without another word, Jones ran into the station and was swallowed up by the morning crowd. Harry Royle fastened the smart wristwatch onto his wrist and smiled at his friend's thoughtfulness.

Now he would have to work out a plan of action. He knew that he couldn't hang around the station for hours, that would be too risky. He had thought of telephoning Susan, but that really wouldn't be right. No, he would have to find something to do and somewhere to go. Later in the day he would drive out and get some distance from the city centre and then wait for nightfall before heading back to the station. But first, he would need clothes and something to eat, as his stomach was growling. Harry decided to park the car behind Kendals department store, buy clothes in the store and then walk to the nearest cafe.

Two hours later and with full shopping bags containing his new clothes, Harry decided to return to the car. He had got everything he needed and had enjoyed a good working man's full breakfast, with extra sausage and fried bread and felt readier for the day ahead. The meal was a welcome change from the monotonous prison diet. He was just in sight of the car when a shrill whistle pierced the mid-morning air and brought looks from passers by. For an instant, Royle remained frozen to the spot. Then two other police whistles joined the first and a shout when up.

"Royle stay where you are, you are under arrest."

Without dropping his bags, Harry turned on his heel and bolted. As he ran he shoved a police officer back into a doorway and ran passed. More shouts and whistles were left behind, as the convict ran for all he was worth. He rounded the corner and through Kendals main entrance, knocking over a doorman and shoving past several morning shoppers. He made for the toilets upstairs and once inside the locked cubicle, he quickly changed into his newly bought clothing.

Ten minutes later and with his old clothes stuffed in the shopping bags, a smartly dressed man in a good suit, topcoat and hat, walked across to a display of gentleman's bags and cases and purchased a leather briefcase. As he came away from speaking to the assistant, he passed two policemen; they walked by him without a second glance. Once back on the street he decided to go to the station and wait it out or else get an earlier train. He was so glad that he had got rid of the uniform very carefully, by wrapping it as a parcel and having a salesman in Kendals dispose of it, as unwanted rags. He had tipped the man generously. Harry had previously torn the cap and removed the badge, which he had slipped down a grid, along with the epaulettes. The cap had been forced under an old pile of rotting wood he had come upon near the cafe. Without the cap and prison insignia, the uniform looked like a dark suit and wouldn't, he knew, attract any unwanted attention. Not that the man would have any reason to look inside the parcel.

On arriving at the station, he could see it was crawling with police. He decided to do the last thing they would expect. He booked into the Midland hotel for the night, as it was close by. No questions were asked at the reception desk, beyond the request to see his papers. He enjoyed the rest of the day reading, eating and smoking. The evening was spent in the bar and he then retired to his room with a book purchased at the hotel shop, where he had also bought shaving gear. He had a good night's sleep, only waking up once or twice, mainly because of the quietness of the building, compared to the prison.

The next morning after breakfasting, he paid his bill and strolled over to the train station. He bought a ticket for London and went inside to sit and have a cup of tea. Lighting up a cigarette, he stretched out his legs and put his hat down on the table. He was lost in thought when he heard his train being announced. He knew that he would soon be walking through Soho and his search for Ruth could begin.

It was while he was stood in the queue waiting to board the train that he saw them. Plain clothes men. At first he saw two and then noticed at least three more. They were coming from both directions. He only had one idea. He pushed past the other passengers and jumped onto the train. He pushed back a ticket collector and ran down the carriage, before opening a door on the other side of the train and jumping down onto the tracks. Another train was pulling out going in the opposite direction. He launched himself at it, as it began to pick up speed. He just managed to grab onto it and tried to pull himself on-board. A uniformed hand clasped his and pulled him into the carriage.

"You bloody fool, you could have been killed, you office wallah's are all the same, rush, rush, rush. Ticket?"