Slammer (13 page)

'I didn't say I was unhappy.'

'You asked—'

'—what difference it would make. I was speculating.'

Riddell drummed his pencil on the desk. 'So you like the job?'

'I've had better.'

Glint of interest in Riddell's eye. 'Like what?'

'Worked in a cinema once. Didn't enjoy having to push the food and drink, but that's where they make all the money. Free films, though. That was good. I like films.'

'So why did you leave?'

And psychiatrists were supposed to be bright. 'Money,' Glass said. 'We don't get paid that much here, but it's a damn sight more than retail.'

'Apart from the cinema, you ever worked anywhere else?'

Of course he had. But for a moment, he couldn't remember where. He felt hot all of a sudden and was sure it was connected. Trying to remember was making him feel sick. And then just as suddenly, he was okay. The bakery. Where he met Lorna. But he didn't want to share that with Riddell.

'No, I haven't had any other jobs.'

Riddell seemed pleased he'd got a response, though. Pushed for more. 'Would you say you've settled in now?'

Glass shrugged. 'I know the ropes.'

'And your colleagues?'

'Most of them seem to know the ropes too.'

'No, I meant, how are you getting on with them?'

'Look, the majority of them are arseholes. I know that. You know that. They know that. But there's no point me sitting here talking to you about it.'

'Why not?'

'Because it won't stop them being arseholes.'

Riddell let that hang for a while. Then he said, 'What have they done?'

'What do you mean?'

'What is it they've done to you? Why are they arseholes?'

'They're just arseholes. You must know. You speak to them too.'

Another pause. 'You don't want to talk about it?'

'You got that right.' For a shrink, Riddell wasn't exactly perceptive.

Riddell smiled. 'You may think that.'

'I may.'

'But that doesn't mean you're right.'

'Shouldn't I be the judge of that?'

'Of course, I was merely—'

'Time to go, I have something more important to do.'

'We have plenty more time, Nick.'

'You're not listening,
John,
' Glass said. 'Try it sometime. You might be surprised what you learn.'

TUESDAY

One day about ten years ago,
Sandy
'Headcase' Harris had been drinking alone in a bar in
Falkirk
. He liked to drink alone in bars. He was the last customer and the barman was on his own, it being a typically quiet Monday night.

The barman asked Harris, politely, if he'd drink up.

Harris didn't want to. He didn't say that, though. Instead, he grabbed his bottle of beer by the neck, smashed it against the edge of the counter and shoved it deep into the barman's throat.

The astonished barman didn't know what to do. He made a mistake and pulled the glass out. Blood gushed onto the bar counter, splattered all over the newly cleaned glasses and onto the floor. As the barman fought for breath, Harris leaped over the counter, got behind the barman, and put him in a half nelson.

Harris levered the barman onto the counter. Then he raped him.

By the time Harris had finished, the barman was dead.

Harris helped himself to another bottle of beer, returned to his seat, and drank it. After that, he had two more.

Then, calm as you like, and apparently not sounding the least intoxicated, he dialled 999 and explained what he'd done.

When the police arrived, he was finishing off a bag of salted peanuts.

Everybody in the Hilton knew the story. Headcase Harris was happy to talk about it, and smile as he did so.

Which is why, when Glass was told he was wanted in the Digger, he hoped it wasn't anything to do with Harris.

*

'He needs exercised,' McDee said. 'It's his legal right. We can't deny him his time in the exercise yard.'

'I don't dispute that,' Glass said. 'But why do
I
have to walk him?'

'You're the only officer available,' Fox said.

Glass stared at him. 'That can't be true.'

'Sorry, Crystal,' Fox said. 'Wouldn't call on you to do this if it wasn't necessary.'

So they thought he was scared. No doubt they'd spent ages deciding who was the most dangerous prisoner in the Hilton and guessed that Headcase Harris's reputation alone would turn Glass into a snivelling coward.

Well, Glass would show them. 'Okay,' he said. 'No problem.'

'Good,' McDee said. 'He has to be cuffed to you. That okay?'

'Fine. Why wouldn't it be?'

Course, the last thing he wanted was to be handcuffed to Harris. Bad enough being in the proximity of a psycho like Headcase, but it was even worse when you knew you wouldn't be able to escape in a hurry if the psycho went psycho. Still, somebody had to have been walking Harris on previous occasions and as far as Glass knew, nobody'd been hurt.

'Where is he, then?' Glass asked.

Fox stayed where he was while McDee led Glass down the block to the cell second from the end. 'Here we are,' McDee said.

Fox was talking on his radio, although Glass couldn't hear what he was saying. Seemed to be having a laugh, though. Probably telling Ross a dirty joke. She was every bit as bad as him. Glass wouldn't have been surprised to discover they were screwing each other, that their families meant nothing to them. Yeah, both of them were married with kids.

McDee opened the cell door.

The stink hit Glass first. Not the usual pong. No, this was a stench that made him flinch just as surely as if someone had thrown a punch at him.

But there was nothing moving, nothing throwing punches. Just the thing crouched in the corner of the room. Covered in feathers. Feathers in its hair, on its face, all over its body. Feathers all over the floor, and a few feet away what must have been a pillow before it had been gutted.

The thing was human. It had eyes, limbs. But it was the strangest-looking human Glass had ever seen.

He put his hand over his nose. The stench crawled through his fingers and up his nostrils. And then he realised why the feathers were adhering to Harris's body.

Glass gagged. It couldn't be.

But it was. The smell was undeniable, no matter how much Glass had wanted to think it was just a full chamber pot.

The crazy bastard was covered, head to toe, in shit.

Tears welled in Glass's eyes. He blinked them back. He said to McDee, 'This isn't funny.'

Glass heard Fox scurrying down the corridor towards them.

'Not supposed to be,' McDee said. He was standing well outside the door, hand cupped over his nose and mouth.

'Fuck's sake,' Fox said. 'That's one heady aroma.'

Glass said, 'This is beyond a joke.'

'Who's laughing?' Fox said. 'The prisoner needs to be exercised.'

'Not like that,' Glass said. 'I'm not taking him anywhere in that state.'

Fox looked at McDee. 'Better tell the S.O.,' he said. Then, to Glass, 'Shaw's not going to be too pleased with you.'

'What's it got to do with Shaw?'

'He's the one who suggested you for the job.'

Glass doubted it. 'Why pick on me?'

'Nobody's picking on you,' McDee said. 'I took Harris out yesterday. Fox took him out the day before. We've all had a turn. Show you the paperwork if you want.'

Fox said, 'Part of the job, Glass. You don't want to do it, hand in your notice.'

Glass wished that were possible. 'Hose him down first,' he suggested.

'Nope,' McDee said. 'Wish we could, but that's against the rules too. Prisoner's got rights, you know.'

Glass stepped into the cell, the stink growing all the time.

Headcase Harris looked up at him, eyes seriously white against his D.I.Y. suntan.

Glass wanted to call him names.
Reeking bastard, stinking fucker
.
All he could think of to do. But he couldn't say anything. This shit-encrusted, feathered nutjob wasn't the sort of person who'd stand for it. As soon as he got the opportunity, he'd kill Glass. Maybe rape him first. And he'd have the opportunity very soon.

'Exercise time,' Glass said to him.

'Is it raining?' Harris wanted to know.

His teeth looked too white, like his eyes. He had shit on his lips. He'd done a hell of a thorough job.

'Dry as a bone.' Glass gagged again. Swallowed. Kept swallowing. He was producing a lot of saliva. 'Why did you do this to yourself?'

'Oh,' Harris said, tilting his head. 'I didn't think anyone cared.'

Glass shrugged. 'I'm full of surprises.'

Harris eyed him, then grinned. 'Fuckers wouldn't empty my bucket. Been stinking the place up for a week. So I emptied it myself. You get used to the smell, by the way.' He held out his arm. 'Put on the bracelets. Can't wait to get all cosy with you.'

Glass wanted to check he wasn't being lied to. He asked Harris, 'Did you get exercised yesterday?'

'Always get exercised. Have to,' Harris said. 'I've got rights.'

Course. He had rights. Glass nodded. Fox and McDee weren't conning him.

*

The exercise yard measured about ten feet by ten. It was completely enclosed.

McDee and Fox stood by the entrance, watching Glass walk round in circles practically hand in hand with Harris.

So Glass was the only officer available, was he? He'd known that was a lie. The fuckers had come to gloat. They seemed to be finding it pretty funny. Well, let them.

Truth was, Glass was more concerned about Harris than about his dickhead colleagues. Harris was behaving himself so far, though. Humming a little song, something Glass didn't recognise, a few feathers on his shoulder fluttering in the breeze.

But with each circuit of the yard, Glass was finding it increasingly difficult to avoid bumping into him. It wasn't just that Glass didn't want to get crap on his uniform. There was also the fact that Harris was barefoot and something as simple as Glass standing on his toes might drive him into a murderous frenzy. He'd already killed a man for less.