Trying To Run In Prison Part 5

Black.

Craig woke with a start, breathing heavily. He composed himself and sat upright in bed, rubbing his eyes. He had no idea what he had just dreamt or who the 2 men were but was glad that for once the dream wasn't based around him. The dream troubled him, but he had had worse, far worse.

Craig composed himself and got out of bed. He treated himself to an extra-long shower, dried, dress and headed downstairs. One cup of tea and one bowl of corn flakes later he was donning his coat and heading off for the car lot.

'I will not be bullied, I would rather die.' He said to himself.

He arrived at the lot a little before 8:30am, double checked that the cameras were working, practiced the quick retrieval of his weapon a.r.s.enal, made himself a cup of coffee and waited.

'I will not be bullied, I would rather die.' He said to himself.

Chapter 20.

Howard sit quietly in the corner of the pub alternating between taking gentle sips of his pint and knocking one of the line of shots he had lined up in front of him. The pub was dead except for one old regular propped up against the bar reading the racing post and another sat at a table eating what Howard guessed was chicken in a basket. Howard didn't mind at all. He wanted peace and quiet, but he also wanted others around him. This was perfect.

The pub looked as though it had been unchanged and undecorated for a century. Sawdust on the floor and spitting compet.i.tions would not have been out of places, the walls were lined with dark brown wooden panels adorned with a variety of fis.h.i.+ng paraphernalia, whish Howard thought was strange for 2 reasons, 1. The pub was in the middle of London and completely land locked, and 2. The pub was called the wheat sheaf. Not the most sea faring of names.

To say that Howard was scarred would be putting it very mildly indeed. Howard's left leg jigged up and down uncontrollably as he drank. He wasn't planning on getting completely inebriated, just drunk enough to take the edge off. Howard drained the rest of his pint and wandered over to the bar.

"Another lager please mate." Said Howard to the barman.

"No more shots then?" asked the barman "No, the last ones seem to be working their magic, I think that will do for now." Replied Howard.

"Tough day?" asked the barman.

"yeah, you could say that. A very odd day, I don't think I'm feeling great. These drinks are purely medicinal you see."

"Aren't they all buddy, that's 2.38 please mate." Said the bar tender.

Howard paid and returned to his table and continued to drink. He pulled his mobile from the pocket of his hoodie and began to text Robert.

'Hi fella, are you around this evening? I need to talk.'

Howard put the phone back in his pocket and turned his attention back to his pint and 2 remaining shots. As Howard knocked back the last of his shots a cold breeze signified that another customer had entered the pub. Howard pushed the shot gla.s.ses away from him and pulled his pint closer, craning his neck in an attempt to see who had entered the bar.

Howards pocket buzzed. He reached in and grabbed the phone, a few well-placed finger jabs and Roberts reply popped into view.

'Hi mate, I'm not up to anything. I can meet you up the Old Railway for a couple of pints if you like. Are you ok?'

Howard smirked to himself, how was he going to sum up just how he was feeling and everything that had happened in a simple text message. The truth was that he couldn't.

'Just got a few things on my mind I need to discuss. Catch you there at 8:00pm?' was the best he could muster.

An almost instant buzz from the phone signified that the arrangement was fine. Howard glanced at his watch, it was 5:35. The Old Railway was a good 30 minute walk from where he was currently drinking.

'If I am going to carry on drinking, I had better get some food in me.' Thought Howard. Howard stood up and looked over the bar to see if the bar tender was around. He was certain that the food would be awful, but this would have to be a meal of necessity rather than one of pleasure. The barman was not around so Howard side stepped the table and started to make his way towards the bar. Howard felt a presence to his right and as he turned he noticed the fact that not only was the bar man not there, but the locals had gone too. The only people apparently left in the bar were him and the two new customers that were stood near the door staring directly at him.

Howard was face to face with 2 children. One of them appeared to be around 10 and the other must only have been around 3 years old.

'why are there kids in the pub? Why are they staring at me so intensely? And, where the h.e.l.l has everyone else gone?' Thought Howard to himself.

The children continued to stare at Howard. The 10 year old seemed to have a basin style hair cut straight out of the 80's with clothes to match. A b.u.t.toned down cream s.h.i.+rt with polka dots and a pair of slightly over sized brown corduroys trousers, which Howard guessed were most likely hand me downs. The 3 year old was wearing some kind of poorly conceived elf costume. A green hat and waistcoat with red and white hooped stockings. The costume was grubby and Howard a.s.sumed that the pair were occupants of the council estate that lay around the back of his shop. He thought that both of them could do with a good bath.

Howard started to feel uneasy about the situation. 'Where the h.e.l.l is everyone? I came in here so as not to be alone. Maybe if I call the bar tender.' Thought Howard.

"Excuse me, bar tender!" shouted Howard loudly. The children continued to stare. Howard did his best to ignore the glare from the bizarre children and walked right up to the bar.

"Excuse me, bar tender!" He shouted again, "Is there anyone there, I would like to order some food please!"

Howard felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and sweat began to p.r.i.c.kle on his forehead. This didn't feel right, it didn't feel right at all. He looked at the children, they continued to look at him with an ever increasing intensity.

Howard began to fidget and shuffle, he didn't like this feeling one bit. He summoned the strength and turned to face the children.

"What do you want?" He asked the children.

"What does who want?" asked the bar tender. "You were calling for me mate, did you want something?"

Howard blinked and spun back to face the bar tender who had just seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry mate, I wanted to order some food. Do you know who those children are?" replied Howard.

"What children mate?" said the bar tender.

"Those." Said Howard, turning and pointing. "Oh, they have gone."

Both children had gone. A flus.h.i.+ng sound emanated from the bathroom and the local that had been propping up the bar waddled out and returned to his seat.

"Are you feeling ok?" asked the bar tender. "There has not been any children in here pal."

"I swear they were there. I think I'm going f.u.c.king mad mate." Said Howard.

"You want to lay off the booze I think mate, you look a bit odd. You said you wanted some food?"

Howard ordered a sausage baguette and sat back in his seat still in a daze.

'What the f.u.c.king h.e.l.l is happening to me? Is all this real or am I imagining it? I'm 30 tomorrow, does this have something to do with that f.u.c.king Ouija board we did? Surely it can't, that stuff is bull s.h.i.+t. Maybe it's just my mind playing games on me, thinking too hard about the past and spinning me right out. Maybe someone has spiked something I ate or drank and I'm tripping my nuts off. Whatever it is, it had better stop soon before I go out of my f.u.c.king head.' Thought Howard.

Howard ate his food and spent the remainder or the early evening alternating between drinking diet c.o.kes and shandy whilst mindlessly thumbing through the free papers at the bar.

Howard set off to meet Robert at 7:30. It was an ice cold night that greeted Howard as he left the warmth of the pub, he toyed with the idea of quickly returning to his flat to retrieve a coat, but he didn't fancy being in his flat alone. He just wanted to speak to Robert. He pulled his hood up, tugged the cords, drilled his hands into his pockets and stomped off to see his old friend.

Chapter 21.

"The names have just come through via email sir." Said Taylor.

"Well?" Asked Stevens impatiently.

"Thomas Mc Cann, Craig Mandeville and Howard Phillips." Replied Taylor.

"Ok Taylor, I want a full profile on each of these characters by the end of the day. I want to know who they are, what they do, where they live, what pubs they drink in and even what song was played at their f.u.c.king mother wedding. Everything, and by the end of the day, do you understand?"

"Of course sir, we are on it already." Replied Taylor and he turned to leave.

"Taylor!" Called out Stevens as he disappeared around the corner.

"Yes sir?" replied Taylor.

"do you know any of these guys?" asked Stevens "No sir, not me. But one of the lads seems to think he does. The fella called Thomas, he reckons that he was in the papers recently about some incident in a school. We are looking into it now, will be back as soon as we have everything for you sir." Replied Taylor. He again turned to leave.

"Taylor!" called Stevens again.

"Yes sir?" replied Taylor with a slight tinge of irritation in his voice.

"Just one more thing. Get a call in to the hospital and try to speed up the medical reports. I have a feeling that they are going to be key to understanding what's gone on here."

Yesterday's search of the room had gone as well as could have been expected. Both rookies performed their tasks well, the ambulance and forensic teams were there quickly and Roberts had taken a series of very comprehensive notes and photographs that Stevens was now sieving through meticulously and cross referencing against his own notes.

'what killed you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds?' Stevens asked himself. 'it certainly doesn't look as though you have been murdered. There was no evidence of forced entry and no evidence of a struggle. The vomit suggests that maybe you fellas have been poisoned, I guess I will have to wait until the lab reports are back to know for sure. I imagine that at least one of you dead folk are cons, probably all of you, probably little thieving toe rags. Or maybe even petty dealers, after all that was a fair old block of cannabis you guys had under the coffee table.'

Stevens mulled over the possible causes of death, he pushed the notes and photos to one side and began to write in his note pad.

Possible causes of death: Poisoned either by accident (e.g. Via food/drink), or by someone (either one of the 3 or there was another present).

Overdose The only clear evidence of drugs in the block of cannabis, but it's a possibility.

Infection very unlikely given that myself and the other 2 officers are all ok.

a.s.suming that foul play has committed, what possible motives could there be: Non-payment of a drug dealer A territory issue, perhaps these men have been dealing where they shouldn't have been A very unhappy customer Stevens put his pen down and tapped his fingers on the desk in thought. 'These guys don't look much like drug dealers or drug addicts for that matter. But then again they may be quite new to the game and have really p.i.s.sed someone off. The house almost certainly isn't theirs, but I would bet good coin that one of them is related to the owner. I need more information her, but poisoning looks the most likely explanation at the moment, but by what and by whom? It didn't look as if they had eaten anything, no takeaway, no dirty dishes laying around. Again, it looks like I'm going to have to wait for the reports to come back here.'

Stevens spent the rest of the day slogging through the many different cases he was involved with. A hit and run here, a dog bitten child there. The paperwork in Stevens role was endless, but in a strange way he enjoyed it. It was monotonous, but also quite therapeutic. Stevens remained at his desk all morning, filling in paperwork and firing off email after email.

At lunch Stevens treated himself to a walk in the local park where he found a bench and settled to eat his sandwich and drink his coffee. He watched as couple after couple walked past and he thought of his ex-wife and the life that he had left behind. He used to feel that his old life was some kind of prison. A prison, but one without walls that confined him. The daily grind and structure of work and the evening grind and structure of a loveless sh.e.l.l. 'Why did I run from it?' Stevens thought to himself. 'Why did I not work at it? Why did I run?'

Stevens returned to the station with a heavy heart and continued his work, but with little in the way of appet.i.te for it.

6 o'clock cane and went, Stevens conceded that the files were not going to get to him today, he let out a sigh, began packing away his things and started tidying up his desk.

'Useless bunch of t.o.s.s.e.rs, I will rip into them tomorrow.' Thought Stevens as he carefully positioned his stapler and hole punch in their correct place in the draw. He finished and stood at exactly the same time as Taylor walked around the corner and into his office.

"I'm glad you are still here sir, the details you wanted on the three deceased in Tooting, it's all here." Taylor pa.s.sed Stevens 3 immaculate plastic folders and smiled. "Sorry it's a little late sir."

Stevens took the files from Taylor and smiled back. "Thanks lad, good work. Better late than tomorrow. Thanks Taylor, get yourself off home now and put your feet up."

Stevens settled back down at his desk. He put the 3 files on the desk, placed the top one in front of him, opened it and began to read.

Chapter 22.

Janet knocked Thomas's door at 20:24, she was late as usual. She had text Thomas a number of times after his last 'Wish you were here' response, but had not had a response and was starting to get worried.

There was no response to the knocks, so she tried again. Tap tap tap. Still nothing. Janet took out here phone, swiped skillfully through her contacts, located Thomas and pressed....no answer.

Janet stepped into the small front yard and peered through the window, but the 70's flowery curtains were drawn tight with only the flicker of a TV on illuminating the slight orange glow from within.

"Thomas!" She shouted and pressed her ear to the gla.s.s. No reply came, just the faint sound of what appeared to be some guitar based music which she guessed was probably emanating from the TV.

"Are you ok?" came a voice from behind Janet making her jump and turn.

"Oh hi Larry, sorry I wasn't getting an answer from the door or phone, but I think Thomas is on there."

"Yeah, probably it looks like the TV is on. I'm guessing he's probably asleep on the sofa. Let's have a look." Larry whipped his keys out and opened the large Victorian door. He stepped over the mail in the hall way walked on and unlocked a second door into his and Thomas's flat. He walked into the lounge. The TV was indeed on and he noticed that it was a Pink Floyd DVD that was on loop. The orange bulb gave the room a dim but eerie glow, he scanned to room for Thomas.

"Janet, you better get in here!" shouted Larry. "Call for an ambulance!"

Janet ran down the corridor and joined Larry in the lounge. "Oh my G.o.d!" Exclaimed Janet immediately reaching for her mobile and tapping in 999.

Thomas lay between the sofa and the coffee table. He was unconscious and surrounded by empty cans of Guinness and was still clutching a bottle of vodka with a tiny trickle remaining in the bottom. He was covered in vomit and had clearly wet himself.

Larry moved the coffee table out of the way, checked Thomas's air way and convinced all was ok rolled him skillfully into the recovery position.

"h.e.l.lo can I have an ambulance please." Said Janet into her phone. "Yeah, It's my boyfriend." Replied Janet to the emergency operator. "It looks like he has been drinking heavily and pa.s.sed out. He is breathing, but its shallow and he is very clammy too." Janet walked over to where Thomas was laying and began tenderly stroking his hair. "Thanks. It looks like he has thrown up quite a lot, but we have put him in the recovery position." Janet replied one further time with the address and hung up.

An almighty smash made Janet jump out of her skin. She spun instantly in the direction of the sound to see a large brick which had come through the large window heading straight for her. She moved to her right and managed to avoid the full impact as the brick struck her left shoulder.

"You f.u.c.king pedophile c.u.n.t!" Came a loud but young aggressive voice from the other side of the broken window. Larry bolted out of the lounge, back down the hallway and into the street but the group of what appeared to be 3 kids on bikes were already 100 meters or so away.

Larry returned to the orange glow of the now cold lounge, covered Thomas with a blanket and tended to Janet's wound using the first aid kit he kept in the kitchen. He then called 999 and asked for the police.

"Probably a good idea if I fill you in a little." Said Larry.

"Ok," replied Janet, "what's going on?"