Extract from the upcoming book - "Wanted: A Leopold Blake Thriller" Marty Jackson lay on the thin prison mattress and felt the steel springs dig into his spine. The warden had called lights out hours earlier, but something in the air was keeping Marty from sleeping, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The pain in his back didn’t help much either, and elsewhere in the block something was leaking water onto the floor. In the stagnant silence, the metronomic drip, drip, drip of water on the hard tile was impossible to ignore, meaning another night of staring at the ceiling was on the cards. Again. Letting out a deep sigh, Marty squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force his brain to stop whirring. He pictured open fields, blue skies, and anything else he could think of that might soothe him off to sleep. A crashing waterfall. Birdsong. The smell of money. The sound of approaching footsteps was not on the list. Nor was the metallic screech of his cell door sliding open. “What the hell?” he sat up in the top bunk and watched as three men entered, two of them wearing guard’s uniforms. The third guy was a good six inches taller than the others, and built like a pro-wrestler. His skin was black enough that Marty struggled to make out his shape in the low light, but it was obvious the man was huge. “Ta gueule. Lie back down,” one of the guards ordered, his English a little rusty. “New prisoner transfer.” With a faint clink of steel, the wardens unlocked a set of cuffs and the giant man rubbed his wrists with a growl. The two guards left the cell and the bars slid closed behind them. The man mountain looked up, his eyes glinting slightly in the darkness. Jackson shuffled to the edge of his bunk. “You speak English?” No reply. “C’mon, buddy. I don’t speak a word of French, you’re gonna have to meet me in the middle. What’s your name?” The stranger ignored the question and sat down on the lower bunk, making the bed frame creak. “We’re gonna be here a while,” he continued. “You gotta talk to me eventually. I’m Marty Jackson, currently on year two of a five year stretch. What you in for?” No reply. “I was sent down for extortion. Alleged, of course. Whatever you did to get yourself here, I’m sure you’re as innocent as me.” He lay back down. “Anyways, I’ll look forward to talking some more in the morning.” Marty closed his eyes, letting his new room mate settle in for the night. The dripping noise had stopped and the cell block was silent now. Marty ignored his better judgement and sat up again. “Listen, buddy. It’s gonna be bad enough for you in here without going out of your way to piss people off. Take it from me, man. Try to show a little respect. There’s guys in gen pop that’ll take great pleasure in making an example out of you.” Still no reply. “Fine, you’re on your own.” He flopped back onto the bed and tried to get comfortable. He heard a slight rustling noise, an almost imperceptible whisper of sound, and opened his eyes again. “What the – ” A giant silhouette stood next to the top bunk. Marty saw a pair of gleaming eyes, fixed points of light in the gloom, level with his own. Sucking in a deep breath, he felt the air catch in his throat. The figure spoke to him, its voice as quiet as the breeze. “In the morning, show me these people.” And then the shadow was gone again. The bed frame creaked. Marty shut his eyes and listened to his pulse thumping in his ears. The water started dripping again. Marty squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think happy thoughts. None came.
Posted on: Thu, 22 Aug 2013 09:17:15 +0000
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