Slammer (5 page)

Thwack.

Bing.

Rattle.

He heard it. Didn't know what it was.

Cold broke out on his forehead. No sweat, just cold.

He looked down to the side. And there it was, rolling in a slow arc on the floor.

A metal spike.

Laughter rose above the whine of the machines.

He dared to look up and Caesar was baying at him, fixed grin like some cartoon character. Horse was bent double, acting like he'd just witnessed the greatest comedy show on earth, the prick. The other cons were all laughing too.

Funny. Yeah. Fucking side-splittingly fucking funny.

Fox and Ross had followed the gaze of the cons and were looking Glass's way now. Side by side, they moved to a position where they could see the spike on the floor.

And they laughed too. Course they did.

Glass picked up the spike. 'Turn those machines off,' he shouted.

Nobody paid him any attention. Well, he'd see who could press a button.

He walked over to the wall, switched off all the power. The machines died, and the laughter crashed around him, loud. He had their attention. Problem was, he didn't know what to do next.

Hit the alarm
.

Like he should have done when Peeler went berserk with the machete.

Throw the spike back at them.

But at who?

Try to find the culprit.

He scanned the room.

Catch his eyes, he'll look away.

Not these fuckers. They weren't normal. They'd hold his gaze. Guilt didn't register.

It was pointless. There was nothing he could do.

They were still staring at him. Waiting, quiet now, for him to speak. The weight of the spike in his hand was dragging him down. That thing had narrowly missed his head. Jesus fucking Christ.

He had to say something. He said, 'Somebody lose this?'

Silence expanded like a balloon until it was about to pop.

Then, a chuckle. And another. And another.

He tried to hold his smile but his lips quivered, so he placed the spike on the nearest bench to show them he wasn't scared. He bowed his head, turned the power back on. As the machines coughed back into life, he returned to his post at the gate and folded his arms.

No big deal.

When he looked up, Fox was staring at him, shaking his head. Fox gestured with his wrist and mouthed the word, 'Wanker.'

*

'I know it was you,' Glass said.

Free association once again, and there they were in Caesar's peter, the radio blasting yet another forgettable pop song. No blow-job to embarrass Glass this time, Jasmine having taken the opportunity to strut her stuff in front of a bigger audience.

Caesar and Horse were both on their feet, arms folded across their bare chests. Advertisements for muscles. Glass tried not to stare at the tattoos that wound around Caesar's torso and arms but it was hard to drag his eyes away. The centrepiece was a beautiful green-eyed Medusa with snakes for hair.

'Officer Glass,' Caesar said. 'Nick. If I wanted you hurt, you'd
be
hurt.'

Jesus Christ. Was that a threat, or just a statement of fact?

'Listen, mate,' Caesar carried on, 'if you want to find out who threw that piece of metal at you, why don't you check the surveillance tapes?'

Talking at cross-purposes. But that was Caesar being deliberately obtuse.

As it happened, Glass
had
checked the tapes. Five minutes after leaving the machine shop. Went to the tiny room known grandiosely as the Control Booth. The surveillance cameras operated only in select areas of the prison. The machine shop was one of them. He'd checked the tape only to discover that it wasn't set to record on Mondays, Wednesdays or Fridays.

Typical. No, not typical. The fuckers knew that. Knew they could get away with it on a Wednesday.

'That wasn't what I wanted to see you about.' Glass didn't need to explain further, but he did. 'Wasn't to talk about what happened in the machine shop.'

'No?' Caesar said. 'Then what?'

'Yeah, how can we help?' Horse tilted his head back, pushing his chin forward. As if he was daring Glass to punch it.

'The other thing.' Glass didn't want to say it aloud. The music was thumping, but the peter door was open. 'You know.'

Caesar shook his head.

Glass said, quietly, 'With my wife?'

Caesar went all wide-eyed, palms raised in cluelessness. Life was just one big mystery to him. 'You know what he's talking about?' he asked Horse.

Horse shook his head. 'Buggered if I do.'

Glass felt the tension in his shoulders, in his neck. Now that he was forced to describe how they'd threatened him, it was as if he was threatening them by doing so. It was all arse backwards. He said, 'The guy at the supermarket.' Left it at that.

Caesar frowned. Shrugged. Looked at Horse. 'Some guy diddle his wife when she was shopping?'

'Wasn't me,' Horse said. 'Got a pretty solid alibi.' He laughed, a strangely gentle sound.

'Just lay off,' Glass said. 'Fucking lay off. That's all I wanted to say.'

Caesar took a step forward, arms by his side, flexing his triceps. 'You threatening me?'

'I—' Glass said. Fuck it. 'Yeah.'

Caesar breathed out. 'Well, I'm duly intimidated. Listen, Nick.' He lowered his voice. 'We need your help. We really need you to bring in this gear for us. It'll be easy. No risk.'

'I told you, no.'

'You're our only hope.'

'What's wrong with your regular mule?' He hadn't wanted to get drawn into a conversation about this. Just wanted to say his piece and leave. But he didn't feel he could leave till everything was sorted out.

'Lying low,' Caesar said.

 
'What does that mean?'

'Why? You trying to work out who it is?'

He was curious, certainly. And it wouldn't hurt to have some information he could use against Caesar. But there was no chance of that now.

'Oh, yeah,' Caesar said. 'I can see through you, Glass.'

Horse laughed. 'See through him. Nice one.'

'Never heard that one before,' Glass said.

'Lighten up,' Caesar said. 'Point is, I'm not in the business of fingering anyone. Very trustworthy, me. That right, Horse?'

'Aye. Trust you with my liver.'

Caesar squinted at him.

'You know,' Horse said, 'if my liver ever fell out or something and you found it, I'd trust you with it.'

'You wouldn't trust anyone else?'

'Nah,' Horse said. 'Most of the tossers round here would fry it up and eat it.'

'I'm touched,' Caesar said.

Glass didn't want to listen to these arseholes any longer. Sometimes he forgot what they'd done, why they were in the Hilton. Caesar liked to brag about his crime, introduced himself to Glass on his first day as someone who liked to play games with people. And when Glass thought about what that meant, the literal nature of it, it made his balls leap for his stomach. He shouldn't forget. It was dangerous to forget. He said, 'I won't do it. I can't.' He'd be risking his job, jeopardising his family's future, facing the possibility of some jail time himself. P.O.s who committed crimes got dealt with much more severely than ordinary citizens. Made an example of. Rightly so.

'Then we have a problem,' Caesar said. 'If we don't get this piece of business through soon, we're going to lose the whole deal.'

'Tough.'

'I can't be responsible for what happens then.'

Glass clenched his fists. 'What does that mean?'

'What I said,' Caesar said. 'Anything that might happen to … your loved ones, for instance.' He shrugged.

So the guy at the supermarket
had
been sent by him.

Glass said, 'I thought my family had nothing to do with you.'

'Even more reason Caesar can't be responsible,' Horse said.

'We'll pay you, of course,' Caesar said. 'Make it well worth your while. You could use the extra cash, I'm sure. Starting salary for a P.O. sucks, doesn't it? And I hear you have a nice house and no doubt a hefty mortgage to go along with it. Wife doesn't work. Kids ain't cheap.'

'You have that guy spying on me?'

'Keeping an eye out. In case you get hurt. Come on. Name your price.'

'What makes you think smuggling drugs for you could ever be worth my while?'

'Everybody has a price.'

'I'm not doing it,' Glass said. 'I don't have a price.'

'How old's your daughter? I hear she's pretty. Like your wife.'

Glass imagined drawing his baton. Launching himself at them. Beating the pair of them till their tattoos ran red. Instead, he said, 'No.'

'Think it over,' Caesar said.

'I don't need to.'

'I insist. Twenty-four hours.'

'I'll still say no.'

'That's a shame,' Caesar said. 'Cause I promise you, something very bad will happen.'

'I'll report you.' The threat sounded pitiful as soon as he'd said it.

'You're not taking me seriously,' Caesar said, 'and that's a really big fucking mistake. You're not as headless as you look, now, are you?'

*

'Did he hurt her?' Glass said.

Lorna was better now than she'd been when he was on the phone with her earlier. He'd hurried home from work, told her not to call the police till they'd spoken.

This is what she told him.

About half an hour before she was due to pick up Caitlin from school, the man she'd seen at the supermarket had come to the house.

Lorna had answered the door, not expecting him, certainly not expecting him to barge in. Well, you didn't, did you? She insisted they get a chain on the door. Glass agreed, didn't have the heart to tell her a chain wouldn't stop him next time and wouldn't have stopped him earlier today.

The supermarket guy had clamped his hand over her mouth to stop her screaming, dragged her through to the sitting room.

She was terrified.

When she was telling him this, Glass's skin felt like it had been out too long in the sun. All prickly, hypersensitive.