Hard Landing (31 page)

‘You never know,’ said Shepherd.

Down below they heard cell doors being unlocked. Lee started banging on the door again. ‘Come on, we’re starving here!’ he yelled.

At five thirty Rathbone unlocked it. ‘What’s going on?’ Lee asked.

‘We’re doing the landings one at a time.’

‘You can’t,’ said Lee.

Rathbone grinned. ‘Jason, we can do what we like.’ He gestured for Lee to go and get his meal. ‘You too, Macdonald.’

‘I’m not hungry,’ said Shepherd.

‘If you don’t eat, it’s got to go down on your report,’ said Rathbone. ‘Save me the paperwork and get your tray, will you? You can always give it to Jason.’

Shepherd climbed down and went to the ones with his flask. The doors there were already locked.

He had chosen the roast turkey option, and had it with mashed potatoes and carrots, then a raspberry yoghurt. He filled his Thermos with hot water and headed back to his cell. Lloyd-Davies was by the bubble. She waved over at him. ‘Bob, I got you on the gym list for tomorrow.’

‘Thanks, ma’am,’ said Shepherd.

‘No need to thank me, your name was next on the list,’ she said.

As Shepherd walked back to his cell he realised what had happened: Needles or Bunton, possibly both, must have been on the gym list. Two birds with one stone.

Shepherd and Weston were supposedly under the supervision of Hamilton while they cleaned the twos, but he was in the bubble talking to Tony Stafford. Weston worked in silence, humming, as they moved methodically along the landing with their mops and buckets.

Shepherd heard footsteps behind him. It was Carpenter, holding a mop and bucket. He smiled at Weston. ‘Give us a moment, will you, Charlie?’ he said.

Weston picked up his bucket and headed to the far side of the landing.

Carpenter put down his bucket and began to mop the floor. ‘What’s your game, Bob?’ he asked.

‘It’s not a game,’ said Shepherd.

‘That’s three men you’ve put in hospital now,’ said Carpenter. ‘Are you taking on Digger, is that it?’

‘I don’t want to run the spur, I just want out of here.’

‘And how does crippling cons achieve that?’

‘Needles started it.’

‘This isn’t the fucking playground,’ said Carpenter.

‘If I hadn’t given it to him, he’d have given it to me,’ said Shepherd.

‘You carry on this way you’ll fuck it up for everyone.’

‘How does me taking care of myself fuck it up for you, Gerry?’

Carpenter stopped cleaning. ‘If cons start fighting each other we’re going to be banged up twenty-three hours a day. That’s one. We’re going to have the cells turned over every day for weapons. That’s two. And if the governor thinks Tony Stafford’s lost control of the block, he’ll be moved. That’s three. Any one of those fucks up my life, and I’m not going to stand for it.’

‘That’d be a threat, would it?’ asked Shepherd.

‘You want to fight me now, do you?’ asked Carpenter.

‘I don’t want to fight anyone. Like I said, I just want out of here.’

Carpenter started mopping again. ‘You carry on like this, they’ll put you in segregation.’

‘The only way they’ll know what happened is if someone grasses,’ said Shepherd. ‘And if someone grasses, they’ll have me to deal with.’

‘Now you’re the one making threats.’

Shepherd looked across at him. ‘It’s only a threat if you’re planning to grass me up,’ he said.

‘I don’t have to grass anyone up,’ Carpenter sneered. ‘I’m perfectly capable of taking care of business myself.’

‘So I don’t have a problem. I wanted out of my cell, so I had to take care of the Bosnian. Needles was planning to cut me up, so I took care of him.’

‘And what next?’

Shepherd shrugged. ‘Like I said, I need someone on the out to get my case sorted. One way or the other.’

Carpenter leaned on his mop. ‘What if I help you get a message out? Will you stop sending inmates to hospital?’

Shepherd grinned. ‘I’ll be as good as gold.’

‘Let me think about it.’

They heard the buzz of prisoners arriving back from the workshops. Carpenter picked up his bucket and headed for the stairs.

Shepherd smiled to himself. He’d just picked up two nuggets of gold from Carpenter. He had a vested interest in Tony Stafford running the block. And there was something in his cell that he didn’t want found.

‘You’re going to be late for school,’ said Sue Shepherd, ruffling her son’s hair. ‘You’re always like this on a Monday.’

‘This toast’s burnt,’ said Liam. He was sitting at the kitchen table, his backpack on the chair next to him.

‘It’s not burnt. It’s fine.’

‘It’s black.’

‘It’s brown.’

‘It tastes burnt.’

‘Well, put more jam on it.’ Sue looked at her wristwatch. It was a Cartier, a present from Dan. He’d given it to her as she lay in her hospital bed with newly born Liam in her arms.

‘Just because I put jam on it doesn’t mean it’s not burnt,’ said Liam slowly, as if she was a simpleton.

‘I know that,’ said Sue. ‘If you don’t want to eat it, leave it. I’ve got things to do, Liam, don’t make life difficult for me. Please.’

Liam sniffed at his toast, then put it down and drank his milk.

Sue picked up her bag and a handful of bills that needed paying. ‘Ready?’ she asked. She looked out of the kitchen window. The grass needed cutting. Just one of a hundred jobs Dan had been promising to do. She mentally cursed her husband.

‘What?’ asked Liam.

Sue realised she must have spoken aloud. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

Liam grabbed his backpack and rushed into the hallway. He stood at the front door as Sue set the burglar alarm, then opened it for her. She double-locked the door and waited for the alarm to stop bleeping.

She opened the door of her black VW Golf and Liam climbed into the back and fastened his seat-belt. The school-run was a necessary evil, the price of living in London. Sue had been pestering her husband for years to move to the countryside, but his job with the Met meant he had to be in the city. It was her own fault, she thought ruefully, as she slotted in the ignition key and started the car.

Shepherd had acceded to her demand that he quit the SAS, but she hadn’t been specific enough about his replacement career. When he’d told her he’d been offered a job as a policeman she imagined him in a uniform, driving a police car, manning a desk, maybe, working shifts, but at least spending most of his time at home with her and Liam. She’d never imagined that his job as a policeman would be every bit as dangerous and demanding as his military career, and that she’d see even less of him than when he was a soldier.

‘What’s wrong, Mummy?’ asked Liam.

‘Nothing,’ said Sue.

‘Were you thinking about Daddy?’

Sue twisted around in her seat. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘You look sad.’

Sue forced a smile. ‘I’m not sad,’ she said. ‘Ready for blast-off ?’

‘All systems go!’ Liam laughed.

Liam’s school was half an hour’s drive away and the main roads were packed with early morning traffic but, like most hard-pressed mothers, Sue knew several rat-runs to the school, weaving in and out of narrow streets. At one point she drove across a filling-station forecourt to cut out a set of traffic lights. She’d made the journey so many times that she drove on auto-pilot, her mind running through all the household tasks she had to get done before she picked up Liam.

‘Mummy, I can’t get my bag.’

‘What?’ A black cab braked in front of her. Sue pounded on her horn then pulled round it. The driver scowled at her as she drove by.

‘My bag, Mummy, it’s on the floor.’

Sue glanced over her shoulder. Liam’s backpack had fallen off the seat and he was reaching for it.

‘Leave it, we’re nearly there,’ said Sue, blipping the accelerator and crossing a traffic light as it turned red.

‘I want my book!’ whined Liam. Sue heard him unclip his seat-belt.

She glared at him in the rear-view mirror. ‘Just behave, will you?’ she shouted. ‘Do that seat-belt up
now!
’

‘I want my bag.’

‘Seat-belt. Now!’

Liam muttered under his breath but did as he was told.

‘You can get it when we stop,’ said Sue.

‘I want it now.’

Another set of lights turned amber. Sue’s foot instinctively pressed on the accelerator but she realised she’d be cutting it too close so she braked instead, so hard that the seat-belt cut into her shoulder.

‘Ow!’ squealed Liam. ‘That hurt.’

Sue unclipped her seat-belt and twisted round to reach for the backpack. It was heavy with books and sports equipment and she felt a stab of pain in her back and swore.

‘What’s wrong, Mummy?’ asked Liam.

‘Nothing,’ said Sue. She grunted as she heaved the bag on to the seat next to Liam. A car behind her sounded its horn. ‘All right, all right,’ she muttered.

She turned back, put the car in gear and stamped on the accelerator. It was only as the car leaped forward that she saw the lights were still red against her. She swore and took her foot off the accelerator. Then saw the truck, and time seemed to stop as if all her senses were in overdrive. It was a Tesco truck, white with the supermarket’s logo across the side. She could see the driver, his mouth open, his eyes fearful and staring. He had a shaved head and was wearing wire-framed spectacles. The horn of the car behind her was still beeping. But not beeping at her, not telling her that the lights had changed. She could see the sky overhead, pure blue and cloudless. She could hear Liam screaming. Then time speeded up as she stamped on the brakes and swung the steering-wheel hard to the right. It was too late and she knew she was going to hit the truck – and hit it hard. She wanted to turn round and tell Liam she was sorry for shouting at him, sorry for swearing, sorry for what was about to happen, but there was no time. She screamed as the car ploughed into the side of the truck.

Shepherd waited until after dinner before he went down to use the phone. He’d changed into his prison-issue trackshirt and was carrying a blue prison towel. As he headed down the stairs Lloyd-Davies called, ‘Macdonald, gym list!’

‘I just want to make a phone call, ma’am,’ Shepherd shouted. ‘Won’t be a minute.’

‘If you’re not right back we go without you,’ said Lloyd-Davies.

Shepherd passed Digger on the stairs. He was wearing a Nike tracksuit and spotless white trainers. He glared, and muttered something under his breath that Shepherd didn’t catch.

One of the phones was being used by Simon Hitchcock but the second was free. Shepherd tapped in his pin number, and then Uncle Richard’s. His call was short and to the point. He said he wanted his Walkman to be sent in. As soon as possible. He replaced the receiver. He knew he was taking a risk, but it was a calculated one. Carpenter had opened up to him, and his offer to pass a message to the outside was a huge step forward. Shepherd was ready to take advantage of it. Carpenter had as good as admitted that he was being helped on the inside. Shepherd’s next step was to try to get him to talk about his plan to kill Sandy Roper. If he could get Carpenter talking about it on tape then he’d stay behind bars for the foreseeable future, no matter what happened to the drugs charges. The downside? Shepherd didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to be on the out. With his wife and son.

As he walked up to the gym group Gerald Carpenter smiled at Lloyd-Davies. ‘Sorry I’m late, ma’am,’ he said. He was wearing shorts and a Reebok sweatshirt, and carrying his towel and a bottle of Highland Spring.

‘You’re not the last,’ said Lloyd-Davies, ticking off his name on her clipboard.

Digger was standing by the barred gate doing stretching exercises. He nodded at Carpenter, who went over and stood next to him. ‘How’s Needles?’ he asked.

‘All cut up,’ said Digger. He grinned at his own joke.

‘He’ll be okay, yeah?’

‘The cuts were tramlines, almost impossible to stitch. He’s going to have to lie in bed for a couple of weeks.’

‘Do you know why Bunton went for him?’

Digger looked at Carpenter. He was still smiling but his eyes were hard.

‘What?’ asked Carpenter innocently.

‘Don’t fuck me around, Gerry. You know as well as I do what went down.’

‘I heard that Bunton laid into Needles with a shiv and that Needles gave as good as he got.’

Digger chuckled, but his eyes had narrowed to slits.

Carpenter held up his hands. ‘Fine, whatever.’

‘Nothing happens in this houseblock without you knowing,’ said Digger, ‘and mostly it happens because you say it happens.’

‘You saying that I put Needles in hospital?’ asked Carpenter.

‘No profit in you doing that,’ said Digger, ‘but you know as well as me that it was Macdonald done the dirty deed.’

‘Anyone see him?’

‘He was seen going in and he was seen coming out. Did anyone see him cut Needles? No. But I don’t need no calculator to add two and two.’

Carpenter leaned on the rail. Down below, Macdonald was walking away from the phones. ‘It ends here and now,’ he said quietly.

‘Needles isn’t going to be on his back for ever,’ said Digger. ‘And he’s going to come after Macdonald, big-time.’

‘Didn’t you hear what I just said? I said it ends now. You tell Needles that if he moves against Macdonald, I’ll destroy his life, inside and outside.’

‘Is Macdonald your man now? Is that it?’

‘If he was, that’d be my business, not yours,’ said Carpenter. ‘But it’s nothing to do with him working for me. It’s to do with wanting a quiet life. You do what you have to do to keep Needles quiet, okay?’

‘Okay,’ said Digger.

‘I mean it, Digger,’ said Carpenter. ‘I’m holding you responsible.’

‘I hear you.’