Slammer (14 page)

Glass just wanted to get this over with. The smell was tolerable because they were outside, but he could feel it clinging to his clothes, seeping into his skin, his hair.

More officers joined Fox and McDee. First Ross, then MacPherson, then, before he'd completed another couple of circuits, Hynd, Lambe, White, Carson, and a couple of faces Glass recognised but whose names he didn't know.

So many of them that they'd spilled out into the exercise yard.

Half of them were smoking. And each time Glass and Harris completed a circuit, they'd cheer.

'Did they do this yesterday?' Glass asked Harris when they were furthest away.

'Nope.'

'So why am I so fucking special?'

'You're walking around a psycho who's covered in shite and feathers.'

Glass paused. Made Harris pause too. 'But so were McDee and Fox.'

'Nope,' Harris said. 'I only started my dirty protest last night.'

*

Glass stuffed his uniform in a large carrier. Even once he'd changed into his civilian clothes, he could still smell Harris's shit.

On the way home in the car, he felt sick. He pulled over, opened the glove box, took out a couple of pills he'd stuffed inside the fingers of one of his gloves. Extra-strength beta-blockers. Slowed you right the fuck down.

After sneaking the heroin for himself, he'd started to siphon off a bit of everything. Kept the stuff in the biscuit tin in the garage, along with his gun. The deliveries were varied. The last few weeks he'd muled smack, coke, speed, acid, poppers, Es, tranx, anti-psychotics, anti-convulsants, painkillers. Each time, he put a little aside for himself. He wasn't a regular user, but why not have options? His job was stressful — his
life
was stressful. Lorna felt free to get out of her head all the time. Why shouldn't he sample a little of what was right in front of him? He'd built up a tidy supply. It'd come in handy of late, mind you. The tin was starting to empty.

He could go a line right now. Get some Charlie up his nose, let that rubber-in-the-sun smell obliterate the reek of Harris, let the drip wash down his throat, cool and clean.

When he arrived home, he rolled up the driveway, waving to Caitlin at the window, and nosed the car into the garage. But the minute he turned off the engine, Caitlin bounced into the garage to welcome him home. He couldn't get to his stash. But, worse, he found he couldn't let Caitlin near him. Couldn't let her give him a kiss.

Lorna stood in the doorway in her dressing gown and slippers, arms folded, watching him get out of the car.

He said, 'Daddy's not feeling well, babygirl,' walked past Lorna, stuck his uniform in the washing machine, then went upstairs and ran a shower.

Lorna came into the bathroom after a few minutes, asked him what was wrong.

'It's nowhere near bedtime,' he said. He was naked, testing the temperature of the water.

'So?'

'Why aren't you dressed?'

'What's it matter?'

'Did you take Caitlin to school today?'

'Course I did. What's wrong with you?'

'Can't tell you.'

'What did I do? You want me to get changed?'

'It's work.' The room was steaming up. The hairs on his arms were glistening. 'Nothing to do with you.'

'Well, no need to take it out on Caitlin.'

'I didn't.'

'She wanted to kiss you.'

'Well, she can't.'

'And why not?'

'Lorna, please leave me alone.'

'You want to be alone? I can arrange that.'

'Don't start, please.'

'What am I starting?'

'For Christ's sake.' He felt his stomach tighten. She'd been drinking again. He couldn't smell it, could only smell shit, but he could tell. 'I stink,' he said. 'I fucking stink.'

'Yeah,' she said. 'You do.' She stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

He stepped into the shower. The curtain was on a rail that looped right round the edge of the bath. He stretched it all the way, so he was completely hidden. Then he stuck his head under the spray and let the water run over him. He washed his hair. He soaped himself all over. Then he washed his hair again. Soaped himself again.

He stood there, the water drumming against his scalp.

Still felt dirty, though.

So he washed his hair once again. And used a different soap on his body. It helped. A stronger smell. Masked the smell of Harris.

Then he crouched down. So much noisier down here. The noise was good. He sat for a while, letting the water dribble into his mouth.

He felt better. He felt okay. He felt safe. His mouth was dry, though. Despite the water running into it.

He didn't hear the door open. Just saw Lorna pull back the shower curtain. Saw her lips move.

He couldn't hear her. He moved his head from under the spray.

His legs felt stiff.

'Your daughter's wondering if you can spare five minutes,' she said.

Glass nodded.

'Before she goes to bed.'

'What time is it?'

She told him. He'd been in the shower an hour and a half. He could have stayed in it for another hour and a half. Easy.

'Okay,' he said. 'I'll be out in a minute.'

Lorna pulled the shower curtain back in place. Glass washed his hair a final time, and gave himself one last good scrub. Then he yanked the curtain to one side and stepped out.

When he was drying himself, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Noticed a patch of red skin on the front of his right shoulder. Sunburst.

First thought: too long under the shower.

He touched it. Felt smooth. Too smooth. Moved closer to the mirror. And there was another patch on the back of his shoulder. Just as red and angry as the one at the front. Different shape though. This one looked like a large beetle. Elongated body, tiny legs sprouting in random directions.

But that was just his mind playing tricks.

It wasn't a beetle. It was just a scar. Scars both sides of his shoulder. He wondered how the hell he'd never noticed those before.

'Are you sure you saw them?' Riddell asked.

'Definitely,' Glass said.

'Okay. Carry on.'

WEDNESDAY

Horse had grabbed him after dinner, told him they needed to speak privately.

'You said we were done.' Glass had struggled to keep his voice down. 'Finished, you said. Caesar promised me. Last one, he said. He fucking promised.'

Horse pointed his finger at him. 'Don't swear at me. It's not nice. Just be at school in five.'

Glass hadn't had reason to be back in the education block since his run-in with Mafia a couple of months ago. If he was honest with himself, he'd made sure he'd stayed away.

It wasn't just Horse who was waiting for him outside the classroom, of course. Caesar had turned up too. With Jasmine.

Glass didn't like this, but they weren't going to take no for an answer. So he unlocked the door, let them in, and followed. Same classroom as last time. Different scribbles on the whiteboard.

Jasmine closed the door behind her. She had tits, Glass couldn't help noticing. Well, she had something stuffed under her jumper.

Glass said, 'I've done more than enough runs for you, Caesar.' And it wasn't just the number of runs either. The amount he'd been taking in had increased too. He'd had to use a much bigger sandwich box. 'I can't do it any more. I won't. I refuse.'

'All right,' Caesar said.

Horse didn't give Glass time to reply. 'This is about something else,' the big bastard said. 'Something much more fun.'

'You did a good job, by the way,' Caesar said. 'Don't even mind too much that you were dipping into the goods. Got enough to keep you going?'

Glass thought about denying it. 'I'm okay,' he said. 'I'm okay.'

'You're okay. I'm glad you're okay. It's important that you're fucking okay, because we need your help elsewhere.'

Glass felt a tremble in his knees, tried to cover it up by saying, 'What the fuck do you want this time?'

'Can the attitude,' Horse said. 'It doesn't suit a soft prick like you.'

Glass worked his hands into fists. If he had his gun, he'd kill them. He'd kill them all. They couldn't do this to him.

Jasmine pulled out a seat, plonked her skinny arse down in it.

'Here,' Caesar said, handing Glass a couple of tube-shaped objects.

'What are they?'

'Stesolid. Valium suppositories. Swedish or something. Shove them up your arse, they'll calm you the fuck down.'

'I don't want them. I'm calm.'

'Well, have them, anyway. For later.'

'Fuck off.' Glass sat down. His legs were shaking and he was sure everybody could tell. Sitting disguised it. He hadn't had the shakes for at least two weeks. From the minute Caesar had told him it was over. Said that their original mule was back and ready to work again.

Glass was off the hook and he'd never felt so relieved.

He'd gone home, intent on giving Lorna a night to remember. But she was drunk again and had fallen asleep on the settee. He thought about giving her a night to remember anyway, but he trod on a plate of gnawed-at sandwiches she'd left lying on the floor, and then got disgusted with her and then got disgusted with himself for having such thoughts about her in the first place. He took a swig from an open bottle of wine. Three-quarters full, but there were other bottles, empty, in the fireplace. He took the wine into the garage and drank it as if it was water while he plucked the biscuit tin out of the tea chest and rooted around in his stash. Found some Temazepam gel caps. Took a couple of the jellies to help him sleep, finished off the wine, then went to the bathroom and jerked off and got even more disgusted with himself.

He'd woken up in the bathroom next to a pile of vomit. His head pounded, but he felt good nonetheless. He felt very good. Sitting up, he realised his gun was perched on the edge of the bath, no idea how it had got there. Must have brought it back with him from the garage. He wondered if he should get rid of it now. But he'd paid good money for it, and he'd got used to having it around.

Just had to keep it out of Lorna's sight. Out of the bathroom. What had he been thinking? Well, he didn't know what he'd been thinking because he couldn't remember.

He'd cleaned up the mess, stored the gun, popped another couple of jellies and gone to bed. The bed was empty and he thought it was strange but couldn't work out why. He was still awake when Lorna crawled under the covers a couple of hours later. He said, 'You weren't here.'

'Fell asleep on the settee,' she told him. 'You should have woken me up.'